


The Weight of the Medallion

by TrulyMightyPotato



Series: Protector Duties [3]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: (yes I know Dan has three tags in the names section but I wanted to cover my bases here), Actual Murder, And breadherodan will be Daniel, Arranged Marriage, Attempted Murder, Daniel Howell will be referred to as Dan, Dragons, Due to the high chances of people with similar names, Please note the relationships developed in this don't reflect any sort of shipping, Protectors finally get to shine, Severe Illness, The ones that happen happen for the sake of the story and that is all, a lot about Gar's 1000 year past, being a transferred Protector, defying orders, lots of angst and sadness, prisoners of war, super vague prophecies, tags will be updated as I continue writing, they're not happy about it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-30
Updated: 2017-10-19
Packaged: 2018-10-25 15:12:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 30
Words: 53,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10766838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrulyMightyPotato/pseuds/TrulyMightyPotato
Summary: Life continues, no matter what else happens, and a lot of changes come with it. For some, this means settling more firmly into being Protectors for the royal couple. It means arranging treaties sealed by marriage. It means listening to the magic and giving orders you don't want to give.For the Protectors, it means feeling the true weight of the medallion.Trying for one chapter a week, but we'll see how it goes.





	1. Prologue

As Captain of the Wolf Guard and Protector to the Queen, Gar took his job very seriously. He took it seriously even when they were in the middle of Primus. He took it even more seriously when they were traveling. 

“It will be fine,” Pat assured him as Gar mounted his horse. “Iplier isn't too far inland, and Mark will have plenty of protection for a visiting queen.”

Gar sighed, the sound distorted by his mask. “Something feels wrong about this. I don't like it.”

Pat nodded slowly. “It's four months there and back. You've got this, buddy.” He patted the neck of Gar's horse with his one remaining natural hand, then tilted his head to the stable courtyard, where Molly was giving Wade one last embrace. “You'll bring her home safe.”

Gar let out a long breath, picking up his reins. “Keep me posted on how things go here.”

Pat stepped back, giving Gar space to move. “Of course. And Marie and I will keep taking care of Dante, even if you die.”

Gar rolled his eyes, aware Pat couldn't see it. “Appreciate it.”

“Let me know how the new royal baby is over there.” Pat laughed. “Probably a royal pain.”

Gar nudged his horse. “I'm going now.”

Pat laughed again, even as Gar went over to Molly. “Are you ready, my queen?”

Molly pulled herself onto her horse, then leaned down and pressed a kiss to Wade's forehead. “I am now.”

And then they were off, headed for Iplier, the capital of The Land of the Squirrels, for the presentation of the newest royal Fischbach.

\-----

“Welcome to Iplier, Molly.” Mark Fischbach, King of the Land of the Squirrels, greeted them at the stables. He looked a little scrambled, Gar noted, and a little sleep deprived. That’s what happened when you had a three-month-old baby, apparently.

That seemed about right.

Mark’s gaze lingered on Gar for a minute, as if curious, but he said nothing. Wade must have told him the story behind the mask, then.

“How’s life?” Mark returned his gaze to Molly, then offered her his arm and swept inside with her.

Gar followed.

This was the hardest part of this trip, honestly. He’d been to Iplier in the past, back when Mark had been a toddler, and he’d even served as a member of the royal guard for a decade or so. He’d had to leave before people noticed he wasn’t really aging, though.

Actually aging again was weird. After almost a millennia of not aging at all, watching time slowly touch his body was almost fascinating.

But anyway, the guards were in different places than the last time. That was good. If guard positions and routines had been the same for 15 years, he’d be pretty upset with security. 

“Protector,” Mark said hesitantly, and Gar glanced over to see Mark looking at him, “if you would like, we’re about to be in the same room as the captain of the royal guard, and he’s more than willing to speak with you about scheduling until you’re entirely confident your queen is properly protected.”

Gar dipped his head in acknowledgement. He didn’t want Mark to recognize his voice, not when he was supposed to be dead. It wasn’t too much of a risk, they’d only spoken a couple times before, but it was a risk all the same.

Mark gave a brief nod, then returned his attention to Molly. “Amy’s been looking forward to your arrival all week, by the way. She’s excited to meet the Queen of the Realms.”

Molly was wearing her polite company smile, but their bond was buzzing with anxiety. Gar would have pulled her aside to offer words of comfort, but Mark had already whisked her off and Tyler Scheid, Captain of the Royal Guard, had walked in the room.

“Good afternoon, Protector.” Tyler dipped his head by way of greeting.

Gar had never spoken to Tyler before, though, so he felt comfortable speaking now. No risk of having his voice recognized. “Captain.”

As the two discussed where guards would be and when, Gar was aware of Molly becoming slowly more relaxed. She’d likely arrived in the royal quarters, then, and was speaking with Amy.

Finally, Gar gave Tyler a nod. “I appreciate the effort you’ve put into ensuring my queen’s safety.”

Tyler smiled faintly and dipped his head in return. “Of course. It’s the least I can do.” He took a step towards the door.  “I can lead you to the royal quarters, unless you want to explore the palace.”

Gar smiled softly. “I’ve been here before. I know my way around, more or less.”

Tyler raised an eyebrow, but simply gave a courteous half-bow. “Feel free to ask any of the guards around if you need help.” He paused. “If you don’t mind me asking, what is the difference between Protectors and normal guards?”

Gar dipped his head. “Protectors are magically bound to a specific noble.” As Captain of the Royal Guard, even in a different kingdom, Tyler already likely knew that, though. “This allows us to serve in more detail. For example, I can tell you exactly where Molly is at this moment.”

Both of Tyler’s eyebrows went up. “Can you tell who is with her?”

“Perhaps, if I focused, but she’s safe at the moment, and that’s enough for me.”

Tyler made a slightly unimpressed face, and Gar internally sighed, then reached his magic across the binding.

“Five other people are in the room with her: King Fischbach, Princess Amy, the young princess, a guard, and a maid.” 

Tyler looked distinctly startled at that, but Gar simply gave a half-bow and said “Thank you for your time, Captain,” and walked off.

Not the most polite thing to do, but he didn’t want to show off too many of his Protector abilities. That ended up taking a lot of time and usually ended up revealing too much information for comfort. 

Gar got quite a few peculiar looks as he made his way to Molly, drawing on both the tugging of the binding and his memory of the palace layout from a quarter of a century ago. The looks were mostly curious, though, so he didn’t mind so much. He’d experienced much worse over the years he’d been alive—for most of the time he’d been alive, actually.

The thought made Gar pause before he forced himself onward. He couldn’t ignore the time he’d been a demon, or the things he’d done as one, but there was a time and a place to think about it, and this wasn’t it.

Especially since his memories of anything from over 500 years ago were sketchy at best. It seemed there was a limit to how much he could remember. He remembered the important things, largely because Snow had teased them out of obscurity in their conversations, but a lot of the time of the Empire was vague. He could remember general things, and emotions, but not usually specific events. 

The time when he’d been a prince was even worse. He could barely remember what Primus had been like, or what it had been called. He could barely remember what his  _ wife _ had been like, or the faces of Crumpler and Piya (and he knew the only reason he remembered their names and what they’d been to him was because of Snow).

He walked up to the door to the royal quarters just in time to have it close. Who else was entering? Would they recognize Gar’s voice if he spoke?

Gar softly sighed, letting himself into the room. Not getting to speak was fine sometimes, but he kind of needed to talk to Molly when he got like this.

They didn’t have that luxury right now. Maybe later, when Molly had retired to her rooms for the night, but not until Gar was sure they were completely alone. It wasn’t ideal, but it was life.

The sight that greeted Gar as he walked in the room was that of Mark holding the new royal baby while Amy and Molly were casually talking, a dark-haired maid sitting quietly in the corner embroidering something, a blue-haired guard standing at attention across from the door, and a definitely familiar figure settling next to Mark. 

Tom. Mark’s older brother.

Who, if it hadn’t been for Gar, would have been the king of the Land of the Squirrels.

He would  _ definitely _ recognize Gar’s voice.

Molly looked over and gave Gar a smile that hinted at her realizing something was wrong. She wasn’t experienced enough in fully-functioning Protector bindings to be able to tell what it was, yet, or exactly what Gar was feeling, but she had clearly picked up on something.

Mark looked up. “I trust everything has been arranged to your satisfaction?”

Gar dipped his head before glancing around the room to find a place to lean against the wall. If he had been at home, he would have practiced his magic, at least the act of calling it to his fingertips.

But here, that would have given him away. Sure, his original healing magic wasn't that obvious, but he had no reason to use it now. The ice manipulation he'd learned from Snow was definitely not subtle. He had no reason to look at the magic around him right now, so there was no point in using energy to look at the tapestry of energy that filled everything and everyone. And the bit of magic he'd retained from being a demon, that was definitely out.

That last one had taken a bit of explaining to Molly and Wade and Pat. He didn’t have demon energy running through him anymore, no. Snow had indeed completely gotten rid of that during the convergence. He’d simply retained one of the things he’d learned how to do as a demon.

Gar forced himself to stop thinking about it. It wasn’t going to do any good at the moment, and he needed to do other things with his life right now. Besides, Molly was getting more and more worried the longer he lingered on the subject, and she already had enough to stress her out. 

Molly glanced over at him again, then stood. “I appreciate the conversation, but we traveled a lot today-” This was true, it was evening- “and I still need to speak with Wade before I retire for the night.”

“Of course,” Mark said, looking up from the child in his arms. “Tom, would you-”

Tom nodded, standing. “I’ll show you to your rooms.” With that, he led the way out of the room.

Gar already knew where they were staying, thanks to his hour-long conversation with Tyler earlier, but Tom was leading them just fine—and as long as Tom didn’t realize who Gar was, then everything would be okay.

Tom didn’t seem to feel the need for conversation though (thank goodness), and didn’t ask any questions about who Gar was. He merely led them to a set of rooms, bowed at Molly’s expression of thanks, and walked off.

The second the door was closed, Gar dropped in a chair and Molly flopped onto the couch in the room. Both of them groaned. 

“How was it?” Molly finally asked.

“Tyler was considerate.” Gar stretched. “But there are so many people here I’ve met before. Including Tom. Looks like I’m not going to be talking much when we’re out and about.”

Molly looked over. “You’ve met before? Where?”

Gar made a face and pulled off his mask. “I was in the Royal Guard here for a while. Left about fifteen years ago. Never talked to Mark much, but I usually ended up stationed around Tom. He was the one that found out what I was. Confronted me about it.” Gar shook his head. “By that I mean he tried to kill me.”

Molly looked surprised at that.

“Demons aren’t well-received here. Or most places, really.” Gar slumped into a more comfortable position in his chair. “I don’t blame him. I’d have done the same if our positions were reversed.” At least, he was fairly sure he would have done that kind of thing when he was as young as Tom had been. He didn’t remember too much of the time leading up to becoming a demon, but Snow had mentioned they’d fought demons in it. He’d probably at least tried to kill demons.

All the more ironic that he’d ended up being a demon prince for so long.

“...how did it turn out?” Molly seemed to not really want the answer to that, but if she was brave enough to ask, Gar would be brave enough to answer.

“He chased me for a while, almost to the border of the Seventh Realm. He contacted Havendal and got permission to chase me through the Seventh Realm. When he finally caught up -- and catch up he did, because I was trying to avoid detection by anyone else and that slowed me down a lot -- he fought me.” Gar made a face at the unpleasant memory. “I didn’t particularly want to die, because that would have sent me back to the demon realm, so I fought back.”

“Oh.”

“Tom...” Gar sighed, gripping the arms of the chair he was sitting in. “Tom survived, obviously, but there was a long time where it looked like he wouldn’t, which is why Mark was made King instead. The remainder of Tom’s men took him and ran. They never came back to see if I was still alive or not.” He glanced up at Molly, only to find her listening quietly. “I assume they decided I was dead, since they did manage to hurt me pretty badly, and I never went after them. Havendal’s men stopped looking for me. I lived in the mountains above Septimal for several years after that, before the demon camp.”

“You’ve done a lot of traveling over the years, huh.” Molly settled more comfortably into her own seat.

Gar nodded. “People start to notice you don’t really age after a decade or so. That’s when it’s time to leave the entire area. I’ve been to more countries than I can count. Some of them don’t even have royalty. They function perfectly well, too, which is cool.”

Molly raised her eyebrows. “I’m curious how that works.”

“Oh, that varies. Some have elected leaders, some don’t really have any country-wide leaders at all.” Gar shrugged. “They don’t have a need for royal magic, though, so I can see how that works for them.”

Molly made that soft noise of interest. “No royal magic? How does that work?”

Gar shrugged. “I mean, I never really got the chance to investigate in multiple countries, but there were one or two?” He paused, trying to remember. “I think the magic was stabilized by items or ideals?” It had been so long since he’d thought about his time around the world he’d almost forgotten. “Which is interesting, but those systems would have their own problems, like we have problems with ours. Nothing is perfect.”

“Very interesting indeed.” Molly yawned softly. “As much as I’d love to continue the conversation, I think we both need to get sleep, and I need to talk to Wade.”

Gar nodded. “Of course.”


	2. Time Brings Change

Wade was worried about Molly.

He hadn’t said anything about it, but Pat knew him well enough to know.

They’d gotten confirmation that Molly and Gar had arrived safely in Iplier the night before, which had eased some of Wade’s worries—but until Molly was safely back at Wade’s side, he would be worrying about her.

Pat could understand that. There wasn’t much he could do about it, either, besides reassuring Wade everything would be okay. It was a normal sort of trip they’d gone on. Sure, it was Molly’s first time out of the Realms, but Mark was a good host, and Gar was a good Protector. She’d be safe.

Pat couldn’t reassure Wade again until they were in private, though, so he just followed Wade around all day as he went about his  _ enormous _ amounts of responsibility.

Pat was very happy he wasn’t a king, and that he never had the chance of being one. The stress wouldn’t be fun.

However, the stress of being the King’s Protector wasn’t fun either. Not only did Pat have to do his normal Protector duties that he’d been doing for, what, just over twenty years now? but he also had to keep track of all the other Protectors, in the different Realms. (He’d had six conversations via communication spell with three different Protectors since waking up that morning, and one of those communication spells was what had woken him in the first place.) 

As if that wasn’t hard enough, in Gar’s absence, he was also keeping an eye on the Wolf Guard. In Molly’s absence, most of them had gone to visit family, but a few were still around and spent most of their time training or merely taking shifts as normal members of the Royal Guard. 

Speaking of the Royal Guard, Pat had to manage that in Gar’s absence, too. He’d never really thought about how much effort Gar put into figuring out the shifts for those guys, and what he did when one got sick and couldn’t come in, or keeping them from getting into a duel and killing each other in some fit of anger.

That had been a surprisingly prevalent issue.

Pat let out a sigh, his breath crystallizing into swirls. Benefits of being outside in late fall, apparently.

Wade looked over, not breaking his stride. “Everything okay?”

“I can’t wait for Cap to get back.” Pat sighed. “Cap” was the name they’d all agreed to call Gar when they weren’t in the privacy of their own rooms. “Doing both our jobs is hard.”

Wade nodded. “I can see that.” He paused as they made their way inside. “By the way, have you heard from Amile again?”

“What, you think she’s interested in talking to me for a fourth time today?” Pat grinned at Wade’s look. “No, not yet. She’s likely to be occupied for a while after the kid is born, though, so I’m not really surprised.”

Wade groaned. “But I want to know.”

Pat laughed. “Yeah, I know. You’re excited for the Seventh Realm to get its first Heir. Everyone is excited for it. Apparently that’s the reason PJ even contacted me in the first place: Phil was desperate to know but didn’t think it was a good idea to bother Amile, much less JP or Brycelyn.”

Wade chuckled. “Poor Dan, having to deal with that.”

“Oh, I suspect Dan is just as excited.” At least, if the number of times PJ had gone ‘shut up, both of you’ during the communication spell had been any indication. (Pat also hoped PJ hadn’t informed the Lords of the Third Realm how badly he’d been laughing by the end of that conversation.)

Wade grinned. “It’ll be just like being an uncle.”

“You say, as the person who was JP’s guardian before he became an adult.” Pat rolled his eyes. “Because, really, that makes this kid more like your grandkid.”

Wade gave Pat a sour look. “I’m not that old.”

Pat grinned. “That’s not what your hairline says.”

Wade made an offended sound and a fake offended face, and Pat laughed.

“We still going to practice?” Wade finally asked, pausing at a crossway in the halls.

Pat looked down at his prosthetic arm, then looked up and nodded. “Yeah, yeah, that sounds good.”

Wade nodded, taking the turn to head down to the practice yards.

Pat had only had his prosthetic for a few months, since MatPat had given it to him over the summer meetings, so he didn’t really know how to fight with it well. He knew how to fight with just his right arm being whole, thanks to the five years of time to practice between the end of the war and the summer meetings, and he knew how to fight with two whole arms, but not like this.

Learning was a pain.

Not to say learning wasn’t fun or enjoyable. It was just... this was the third time Pat was learning how to fight.  _ The third time. _ He could accept once. He could accept twice. But three times?

“Third time’s the charm, right?” Pat murmured as they entered the training courtyard.

Wade patted Pat on the shoulder. “Let’s hope so.”

The courtyard was, surprisingly, mostly empty. Whether that was because nobody wanted to train in the frigid weather or because they’d heard Wade and Pat were coming for training, Pat didn’t know.

He was mostly just glad. The fewer people here, the fewer who would offer to practice with him and then go easy on him. That had happened before. He’d lost half of an arm, he wasn’t helpless. On the other end of the spectrum, there were the people who offered to train with him and then just launched a full-scale attack. It entirely missed the point of these training sessions. He was trying to figure out how to improve his skills with whatever equipment he had—prosthetic or no prosthetic—which sometimes meant realizing some techniques were simply impossible (such as the ones that required two hands with working fingers) and painstakingly trying things until something worked.

Wade was good at it. Gar was better. Which made sense. Gar had had a lot more fighting experience and had seen a lot more fighters over the years. He, at the least, had seen methods others in Pat’s situation had used. He didn’t always remember them well, but it was a starting point.

Between Gar’s responsibilities with the Royal Guard and the training aspect of it all, Pat was really starting to miss Gar.

At least Gar wasn’t dead. 

Pat was honestly a bit surprised everyone had taken the revelation that not only was Garuku Bluemoon, the Demon Prince, not dead like they’d thought for five years, but that he’d been returned to his position as Molly’s Protector so well. 

If Pat hadn’t been in on the secret for as long as it had been a secret, he would have been pretty upset.

Later that night, when Wade finally got the chance to retreat to his rooms for some peace and quiet and dismissed Pat with a friendly “Go spend a meal with Marie,” Pat was trying to do just that. Spend supper with Marie.

Amile’s magic requested a communication spell.

Pat sighed, setting down his drink.

“What’s wrong?” Marie asked.

“Amile is trying to talk to me.” Pat sent her an apologetic look.

“Well, you should talk to her, then.” Marie shrugged. “This can wait ten minutes.”

Pat gave Marie a bit of a bow, making her smile, and walked to the privacy of their bedroom.

“Did I interrupt something?” Amile asked simply.

Pat paused. “I was having dinner with Marie, but she excused me for this.”

“I’ll be brief, then.” Amile said. “JP and Brycelyn picked the name Cat. Catherine, technically, but they’re already calling her Cat.”

A grin spread across Pat’s face. “Is Brycelyn doing alright, then?”

“She’s tired. As one might expect her to be after that. But, yes, she’s fine.”

“And Cat?”

“Sleeping. I’m just glad she’s not crying anymore.”

“Babies do that.”

“I’m aware.” Amile sighed. “I’ll let you get back to your dinner. I still have to pass the news to Felix.”

“Be prepared for excitement.”

“Will do.”

As Pat walked back to the table, he couldn’t hide the grin on his face. He didn’t  _ want _ to hide the grin on his face.

“Good news?” Marie asked.

“JP’s all grown up now. His daughter is named Cat.”

Ophelia mewed at that from her corner of the room, making Dante bark from his corner.

“Oh, don’t you two start at it again.” Pat rolled his eyes.

“Are you going to tell Wade?” Marie chose to ignore the two animals.

“Yes. After we finish eating.”

\-----

Dan was worried.

PJ couldn’t blame him. He was worried, too. Phil had regularly fallen sick over winter since the arrow, but he had never gotten sick this early, and it already looked to be bad. His coughing and pain had been so severe it had woken both Dan and PJ an hour earlier, and it was still an unholy morning hour now.

“It’s nothing serious,” the healer assured Dan a few feet away, “the cold has just gotten to him. Make sure he stays warm so his lungs don’t freeze over, and make sure he gets lots to drink. Hopefully he’ll be recovered by winterfall.”

Dan put his hand on his chin and nodded, though he looked as dubious as PJ felt.

To be fair, the healer didn’t have the advantage of magical binding to Phil, and he didn’t have healing magic, but still. Surely he could tell something more was wrong?

“...his breathing. If he starts to cough more regularly, you know where to find me.”

“Alright.” Dan dropped his arms into a folded position. “The regular, then.”

The healer nodded, then excused himself with a bow and left.

Dan quietly closed the door to the fortress hall, then looked over at PJ. “Can you feel it, or is it just stretching across the marriage binding?”

“I can feel it.” PJ sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. “It’s heavier this time. Or he’s weaker. I’m not sure which.”

Dan glanced towards Phil’s room, expression unreadable. PJ didn’t have to rely on expressions, though, since he’d started drifting into being Dan’s Protector as well (which was apparently very rare in the first place, and even rarer for him to be staying Phil’s Protector during the process).

“The wedding is next month.” PJ stood from his chair. “You worry about that for a little while, and I’ll sit with Phil.”

Dan let out a long-suffering sigh. “Alright.” He turned as if to leave, but not before PJ caught the pain flicking across Dan’s face.

“Dan.” PJ narrowed his eyes at Dan. “I can do that too. You don’t have to worry about it until you switch me out.”

“I know, but... ” Dan shook his head. “You’re already going to be doing so much for him today.”

PJ laughed softly. “It’s my job. More than that, I  _ want _ to help him. He’s as much my friend as he is yours.”

Dan paused again, then nodded, and his body slowly relaxed. “Just... keep him from suffering too much, okay?”

PJ walked over to Phil’s room. “Of course.”

Over the years, he and Dan had learned they could take some of Phil’s pain from him. It was difficult, and consumed a lot of energy on their parts, but it certainly helped Phil, and discomfort on PJ’s part wasn’t going to kill him.

As PJ walked up to Phil’s still form on the bed, he couldn’t help but note Phil’s shallow, labored breaths and how pale he seemed. Not just pale, but  _ gray _ .

PJ grabbed the now-permanent chair out of the corner as he walked to the other side of the bed, then took a seat next to the bed. He would have to apologize to Sophie in advance for how often he would have to cancel plans on her during the next several months, but he would do that later.

For now, he had to focus on Phil.


	3. Examination

When Gar awoke in the morning, Molly’s room was silent. She was still there, though, and the binding wasn’t shaking with tension of any kind, so she was likely still asleep.

He would have some time to practice magic before she woke, then.

He didn’t want to do anything too involved, in case someone came knocking on the door, or he was suddenly needed for something urgent, but he had options. 

Gar took a deep breath, debating, then felt not for his own magic, or the magical binding between him and Molly, or Molly’s magic, but for the tapestry of magic that existed everywhere.

The red magic of the Land of the Squirrels had always seemed to flow, like blood being pumped throughout a body, and it was no different now. Magic flowed along different threads, some going one direction, some another, some being like a busy road with magic flowing both ways at once.

He didn’t want to touch it too much, in case Mark or Tom could sense that sort of thing (Gar wasn’t afraid he’d hurt it, it was actually impossible for him to do anything to it but touch it, since he had Realms magic), but it was certainly fascinating to watch. 

Wait.

Gar frowned as something on the horizon of the tapestry caught his attention. A tinge of rust-colored magic. Just flickers of it. He could have been imagining it.

No.

Gar’s eyes widened and he pulled out of the tapestry, leaving his eyes seeing only the physical world once again. That physical world was spinning a little bit, a little unsteady, tilting a little less with every gasping breath he took.

_ “Gar?” _ Molly’s voice came urgently, and Gar realized she was gripping his shoulders.

He raised his head, trying to focus on her. 

“Gar. What’s wrong.” Molly steered him back to his borrowed bed, forcing him to sit on the edge of it.

Gar took another couple deep breaths, trying to calm his heartbeat. His hands were shaking, he realized.

“Gar.”

Gar buried his head in his hands for a minute, then looked up at Molly when he was sure he could look up without the world going sideways.

“Trouble is coming.”

Molly blinked. “What kind of trouble?”

“Bad enough we need to tell them.” Gar shook his head and leaned back on his bed. “This isn’t something we can afford to hold back.”

“What even is wrong?”

Gar paused and looked at her, struggling to explain it. “The magic is different.”

Molly sighed. “You don’t think they already know? Mark is the king, after all.”

“The different magic didn’t  _ feel _ different, though. Whatever is causing it is being careful to avoid detection.”

Molly gave him one of the looks that meant she didn’t really understand what he was trying to say, but was taking his word for it anyway. “And how were you planning on telling Mark? He’s busy with the last minute preparations. You’d have to tell Tom, and you don’t want to talk around Tom.”

Gar sighed. “I don’t know, but I’ll have to find a way. It’s bad. I can’t just ignore it.”

“Do you know what’s causing it?”

Gar nodded slowly. “I’ve met the cause before.” He frowned. “I think. It felt familiar, at least.”

“From when you were a demon?”

Gar nodded. “And it was terrifying then.”

Molly let out a long, long breath. “That’s not comforting.”

“It’s not supposed to be.”

Molly gave him a flat look. “What do you suggest we do? Telling Tom would be bad for you, and we can’t get Mark.”

Gar thought for a minute. “The Captain of the Royal Guard, or the Queen’s Guard.”

“Tyler or Ethan?” Molly tilted her head. “They would be easier to get to, and you’ve never met them before this trip, right?”

“They’ve certainly never heard me speak before this trip.”

Molly nodded. “I’ll get ready for the presentation ceremony, then. You go find them and talk to them.”

Gar nodded. As he was going to leave the room, mask once again on his face, he paused. “Is the treaty with Adroy still going as planned?”

“I think so,” Molly replied. “Why?”

“I don’t remember hearing that Maron had arrived. Is he headed straight for Primus?”

Molly shook her head. “He’s supposed to wait for us still. I believe his guards’ families have gone ahead and will arrive in Primus before we will, but he’s supposed to be here. I suspect he’ll find us during the presentation, but if you have time after talking to Ethan and Tyler, you can look for him yourself.”

Gar nodded again, then left.

Tyler, as it turned out, was busy ensuring the palace was properly guarded and all of the guards were properly equipped and in uniform, so nobody was quite sure where he was. Ethan, on the other hand, was fairly easy to find. Next to Amy and the baby—holding the princess, to be exact, and making faces at her.

“Good morning, Captain.” Ethan greeted cheerfully. “How’s it going? You excited for Rose to meet the world? I’m hoping it won’t be too stressful on her, but I think she’ll be fine.”

“It’s not going to be safe.” Well, that probably  _ wasn’t _ the best way to tell Ethan, but Gar didn’t really have time to be diplomatic about it.

Ethan titled his head, but his body stiffened and he held Princess Rosalie closer to himself. “What do you mean?”

“After you’ve dealt with a lot of trouble, and a lot of darkness, you start to be able to sense it approaching. Something is coming, and it’s not in the mood to let everything be.”

Ethan moved Princess Rosalie entirely to his left arm, leaving his right hand free.

“Captain,” Amy said, “you’re concerning me.”

“I’m not going to hurt anyone. It’s not a threat. I promise.” Gar held out his hands so Ethan could see he was presently unarmed. “I can sense magic I’ve encountered in the past, and some of it is getting closer and closer to Iplier as we speak. The being that controls that magic is unstable at best, and incredibly powerful. It has no problems killing anyone and anything that stands in its way.” Gar dropped his hands to his side. “Everyone is in incredible amounts of danger, and you’re the only person I could find who might be able to do anything.”

Amy and Ethan exchanged a long, long look, then they turned back to Gar.

“Take off your mask.” Ethan said, handing Rose over to Amy.

Gar blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Take off your mask. I can’t tell if you’ve been cursed or something with your mask on. Its magic could mask that, too.”

“My face is supposed to be a secret.”

“I know.” Ethan shook his head. “Look, we won’t let anyone in the room and we won’t tell anyone what you look like, but I’ve got to know.”

Gar hesitated, then nodded.

His mask worked the same way as Cry’s did. There weren’t any visible cords or straps or anything holding it on, because magic did it. That same magic was what allowed Gar to breathe properly, even in the middle of battle, and what kept people from taking his mask off for him (there were a total of four people allowed to remove Gar’s mask—Gar himself, Molly, Wade, and Pat. The latter three would only ever be doing it if Gar was unable to and in desperate need of it).

Gar had his eyes closed as he took off his mask. It made the transition a little easier. It did mean he missed the initial reactions of Ethan and Amy as his face was revealed.

Ethan’s eyes searched his for a long, long moment, and Gar could feel his magic and life energy being inspected. What if Ethan found any indications that Gar had once been the Demon Prince? What would happen then?

One of Ethan’s eyebrows went up, and then the other one. Then they both went down and he turned to Amy. “He knows what he’s talking about.”

Amy pulled Rose close. “What are we supposed to do? The presentation ceremony is in an hour, and it has to be done to seal Rose as an heir to the kingdom.”

“I don’t know.” Gar shrugged helplessly, still holding his mask in one hand. “I can tell you all I know about the being, but it’s not a lot, and I don’t think it’ll help.”

“I can get Tom.” Ethan said. “He’s dealt with dark magical beings before.” 

Gar cursed internally, but only began putting his mask back on.

Ethan froze and watched Gar as he did so. “You don’t like being around Tom? Why? He’s a nice guy.” Then his eyes narrowed. “Wait.”

“Ethan?” Amy asked. “What’s going on?”   


Ethan stood, proving to be about the same height as Gar, if not a tiny bit shorter. That inch difference didn’t really seem to make much of a difference, though, when he just stood there and gave Gar a suspicious look.

Gar’s magic was being inspected again, this time much more closely.

“What are you doing?” Gar asked.

“You can feel that?” Ethan’s eyes narrowed some more.

“I told you. I can sense magic I’ve encountered before. And you literally just did this to me a few minutes ago.”

The inspection paused, then continued.

Gar made a face, but allowed Ethan to continue.

Finally, Ethan’s magic pulled away, and he tilted his head for a long moment. “Oh. I see. That’s why the mask.”

Gar dipped his head.

Ethan sighed. “I’m sorry, but really the best person to tell all this to is Tom. I’ll keep him from trying to kill you.” Ethan made a face. “Somehow.”


	4. Duties of a Protector

Under normal circumstances, Amile didn’t mind living next door to JP and Brycelyn at all. In fact, she had insisted on it so she could better keep an eye on JP—as was her job, as his Protector.

Until now, though, she hadn’t had to hear baby Cat crying for half the night through the wall. Neither had she fully expected for a tiny newborn human to have such a large and  _ loud _ set of lungs.

But she had been proud when she could feel JP get up to care for Cat, and even prouder when she realized she was able to actually  _ feel _ how much JP loved his daughter through their binding.

And so, as she found herself sitting and holding the Heiress of the Seventh Realm in her arms at the kitchen table in JP and Brycelyn’s apartment, she couldn’t help but thoroughly examine Cat.

Cat was examining right back.

It would be the most interaction the two could really do for a while, Amile realized, until Cat got a little bit older. But she was still going to marvel at how small the future of the Seventh Realm was—Amile was literally holding her in one arm.

Cat yawned, shifting slightly, and bumped Amile’s medallion. Cat didn’t seem to mind at all and closed her eyes, but Amile froze.

It was likely Cat’s future Protector had already been born. Somewhere in the Realms was the baby that would ultimately become Cat’s Protector, and the two would have the same binding on them that JP and Amile had.

That future Protector was also a baby.

Amile blinked. She’d once been a baby, too. She was older than JP by almost a year, so it was very possible she and JP were the mirrors of what Cat and her Protector would be in sixteen years.

This was a weird train of thought.

Amile looked up from the now-sleeping Cat as JP approached.

“You look tired.” Amile said as JP dropped into a chair.

JP sighed. “I am tired.” He gave half a grin. “On the other hand, I get to announce Cat to the city today, and the Realm. That’s going to be exciting.”

“And Brycelyn?”

“She’s staying in for the day. I think she mentioned something about a bath this morning, but she fell back asleep before I could really make sure that was what she said.”

“And Cat?”

JP tilted his head. “Well, neither of us are properly equipped to feed her, so she’s staying here with B. Mandy promised she’d be here soon to help with Cat.”

Amile hesitated. 

JP looked straight over. “What’s on your mind?”

“Are we getting Cat a guard? Or one for both Brycelyn and Cat? Normally, Brycelyn’s Protector would do the job, but...” Amile frowned. Brycelyn hadn’t had a Protector in almost a decade.

“We’ll make sure a guard is nearby at all times.” JP said. Then he paused. “I was meaning to ask about that. Why wasn’t her Protector in the Halls of the Living? Do you know?”

Amile looked down at Cat for a long moment, then nodded. “She forfeited it.”

“What does that mean?” JP leaned forward in his chair.

“Sarah, Brycelyn’s Protector, forfeited the Halls of the Living. She forfeited the chance to come back at all.” Amile took a deep breath. “She didn’t want to be a Protector. Which, admittedly, is something most of us go through at some point or another, myself included—myself specifically when I watched you through the pools for the first time-”

“I’m glad I impressed you that much.” JP said dryly.

“-but most of us get over it. Sarah didn’t.” Amile sighed. “She took off her medallion and...” Amile trailed off. “Well, I found her in time, but... doing that sort of thing permanently damages the magic in the medallion. When she died, the medallion was able to teleport back to the Guardians like it was supposed to, but... it literally disintegrated after that. I watched it fall apart with my own eyes.” Amile couldn’t hold back the shudder that ran through her at the memory.

“I’m almost afraid to ask now,” JP said slowly, “but what does taking off your medallion  _ do? _ ”

Amile snorted softly. “It’s the curse of the Protector. Once your magic starts to come in, being without your medallion will literally kill you. The Guardians go out and find us when our magic is coming in, when we’re slowly dying, and if they don’t find us in time, we die. And then the medallion takes to us, and if we ever take it off again we have ten minutes, tops, before it’s too late.”

“...Wow.” JP blinked. “I suddenly understand why Pat said Protectors always got the worse end of the deal.”

“I mean, not being dead is great.” Amile said, returning her gaze to Cat. “And I’ve had my medallion for as long as I can really remember, so it’s not like I  _ want _ to go without it. It’s literally a part of me.” She paused, then looked up. “So are you, though in a magical-binding way and not a my-magic-was-exploding-through-my-body-and-killing-me-without-it way.”

JP laughed.

\-----

There was something to be said about the laughter of children playing, of children learning, especially Matthew and Stephanie’s children, but that something didn’t make Jason any less grateful for the vacations from the Heirs to the Sixth Realm.

Technically, he wasn’t on vacation. Protectors don’t get vacations. But he and MatPat were doing a routine trip around the Realm to make sure everything was going alright and nobody was trying to be sneaky and abuse their workers and stuff, and they were traveling hard to make sure they got it done before the snows came in, and that wasn’t something the children would have handled very well.

“We’re getting too old for this.” Jason grumbled in one of their brief rests.

MatPat laughed softly. “We don’t get to retire for at least another fifteen years or so. Just wait and see how old you feel then.”

“Says the man that’s over 40.”

MatPat grinned. “Because you’re totally not that close to me in age.”

Jason rolled his eyes. “I’m closer to you than PJ is to Phil.”

“Yeah, what’s up with that, by the way? I thought Protectors were only supposed to be like two or three years younger than their nobles, max.”

“They are.”

“Why is PJ that much younger, then?”

“He was the magic’s second try. Phil’s first Protector died before even becoming a Protector.”

MatPat propped an arm on his knee and leaned back on the other one. “Huh. I’ve never heard of that before.” 

“PJ seems destined to be an unusual case for Protectors.” Jason shrugged slightly. “I don’t think he minds too much.”

MatPat tilted his head. “What constitutes as normal for Protectors?”

Jason looked over, realizing suddenly that he’d never really talked about any of his training or anything around  _ anyone _ , much less his own noble. Was that normal? He’d never really discussed it with the other Protectors. It just always seemed to be one of the unspoken rules that you didn’t talk much about it.

Jason leaned against his rock and fished out his medallion from under his tunic. Instantly, MatPat’s eyes went to it—not surprising, the Lord of the Sixth Realm had only seen Jason’s medallion maybe twice before, despite how long they’d been bound to each other.

“Most of us almost die before getting these.” Jason examined his medallion as he spoke. It was a little less shiny than it had been in his childhood, but for being older than Jason was himself, the medallion looked pretty good. “Once our own magic has stopped trying to kill us, we go for training. After a while, when our noble turns 14 and gets claimed by the magic of the land, a symbol appears on our medallions.” 

MatPat made a soft “oh” sound at that, glancing at his own sigil on Jason’s medallion.

“Patrck was the exception to that. Wade didn’t get a sigil from the magic when he was claimed, so nothing appeared on Pat’s medallion.” Jason tucked his medallion out of view again. “And when you guys turn 16, we get bound. And then you know the rest.”

MatPat tilted his head. “Have you spoken to your family since you got taken in for training?”

Jason let out a long breath. Right. He’d never talked about them. “They’re dead, most of them. The plague a decade ago.”   


MatPat frowned.

“It’s okay. I’ve got Gen now.” Jason gave a reassuring smile. “It’ll be okay.”

\-----

People always seemed to assume that since Felix had died, he knew something mysterious or mystical, or if there was indeed an afterlife.

Felix always just pretended he didn’t know what they were talking about, like he didn’t remember the time he’d been dead.

Which was a lie. That was definitely a lie.

“It’s been five years.” Felix grumbled to nobody in particular. “Haven’t they gotten used to me being back yet?”

“I have.” Cry didn’t look up from whatever paperwork he was doing. “It’s comforting.”

Felix looked over at Cry and his desk. “You could have called me back sooner.” He paused. “You weren’t even the one to call me back. Ohm did that.”

Now Cry looked up, twisting in his chair to look at Felix. “I couldn’t just abandon everyone to go get your medallion. Especially when I didn’t know where you were.”

Felix sighed and slouched into his chair more. “I know.”

“If I’d known where you were, I would have sent Marzia.” Cry returned to what he’d been doing.

“They wouldn’t have let Marzia take me.” Felix shook his head. “The only ones allowed inside the walls are nobles and Protectors—and the Guardians, but they’ve lived there for a while, so I don’t think anyone is going to be trying to kick them out.”

“Just how old  _ are _ the Guardians?” Cry asked.

Felix shrugged. “I dunno. They’re dragons, and adult ones. That’s all I know.”

Cry paused and twisted in his chair again. “They’re  _ dragons? _ ”

Felix nodded.

“Brycelyn said they looked human.”

“Most of them do. Dragons can shapeshift, among other things.” Felix shuddered at the memory of the one time he’d seen Grayscale with actual scales. “One of them is always in dragon form. One of them can’t return to dragon form, and she’s stuck in her humanoid form. The other three can shift back and forth as they please.”

“Why is one stuck as a human?”

Felix paused and stared at the ceiling for a moment, thinking. He wasn’t sure Bluescale would appreciate Cry learning this, but… the Guardians hadn’t said not to say anything about it.

“She’s the only one that’s fully bound to the magic of the land. She’s the only one that can bind royals and Royal Protectors because of it.”

Cry was quiet, but Felix knew him well enough to know the Lord of the Fifth Realm was just thinking.

“Huh.” Cry turned back to his desk again. “That’s food for thought.”

The two fell once again into their regular comfortable silence. If others had been in the room, Cry would have kept up a conversation of some kind, but there wasn’t really any need with just the two of them. Cry needed to focus on whatever-it-was he was doing (one of the million routine things required in running a Realm, probably), and Felix needed to have his eyes and ears and magic out for danger.

There wasn’t likely to be much danger here, in the fortress of Quintal, but it was good to practice. Especially after how hard it had been for Felix to do these things after the war had ended. Seeing as he’d been  _ dead _ and all for most of it.

Admittedly, getting an actual body again and not being a presence in a medallion...  that was nice. Being able to walk was good, breathing was great, not dying to the Soulstealer had been absolutely  _ fantastic _ .

At that memory, Felix looked over at Cry, and the mask he wore. Felix had seen Cry’s face a few times, after Cry had somehow hurt his face and needed it treated, and he was the only person other than Cry who could take it off Cry (Cheyenne didn’t seem to mind when Cry would sneak up behind her and bop her cheek with his mask, but Felix had zero interest in figuring out exactly how any sort of touchy-feely stuff got worked out between the two).

Felix hadn’t been able to tell when the Soulstealer corrupted Cry’s mask. He wasn’t bound to the mask at all. He had just been able to tell when Cry had stopped getting air despite attempts to breathe. And while neither of them had mentioned it to any of the other nobles (except Cheyenne), Cry had almost died from that, and Cry had taken to wearing his mask off when they were in private.

Except for now, because they were expecting Ken to walk into the office at any moment.

Felix sighed contentedly. Life was good. Being alive was good.


	5. How the Past Scars

It was significantly easier to find Tom than it had been to try to find Tyler.

This was, mostly, because Tom was with Mark in the giant hall used for public announcements and court and similar things, helping getting the last things set up.

“Good morning, captain,” Mark greeted as Gar walked in. “Molly is on the far end, over there. Said she was going to talk to a fellow named Maron?” Mark shrugged and turned back to Tom. “I’m going to find Tyler. You going to be okay here?”

Tom laughed softly. “It’s almost done. I can handle it.”

Mark walked past them, then paused and looked at Ethan. “Is Amy ready, then?”

“They both are. They’ll be down momentarily.” Ethan smiled.

Mark ran a hand through his hair and let out a long breath, looking around the hall, then nodded and walked off.

“He’s going to be so relieved when this is over.” Ethan shook his head.

Tom glanced over his shoulder at them. “Both of us will.” Then he paused and turned. “Do you need something?”

Ethan nodded, and Gar took a deep breath. Instantly, his binding with Molly told her she was suddenly alert. She’d noticed him over here by Tom, then. And then raw concern was wriggling on the binding. She’d probably noticed Gar wasn’t currently armed, that he’d left the sword she’d made for him all those years ago in their rooms—and that Tom  _ was _ armed.

“I need to speak with you,” Gar said quietly.

There was a moment of calm—then Tom’s entire body tensed, and his hand dropped to his sword, sliding the blade out a few inches.

Gar turned his hands outwards, showing he had absolutely zero weapons on him.

The two stayed like that for a minute: Tom scowling, and Gar frantically trying not to panic at the thought that he could be dead on the ground at any second. Ethan was armed and standing sort of between them, so hopefully if Tom drew his sword on Gar, Ethan would be able to stop death from happening.

“Is that why you wear a mask? To hide from what you did?” Tom finally asked. His blade hissed as he slid it back into the sheath.

“No.” Gar shook his head, then glanced over to Molly. She was walking over, trailed by a few unfamiliar people, one of which was dressed like a noble and the other two like guards. “To protect her.”

“Does she know?”

“Yes.”

“What did she owe you to make you her Protector? If you even really are one.”

“Is there a problem?” Molly asked, coming to a stop behind Gar.

“Look.” Gar shook his head and let his hands return to a relaxed position. “If you really want to kill me, we can have at it later. But right now, I need you to listen, because trouble is coming, and it’s coming fast.”

“I feel like I’m getting more than I signed up for,” sighed one of the unfamiliar people behind Molly. Whether it was the noble or one of the guards, Gar didn’t know. That sentence could have belonged to either.

“Trouble is already here.” Tom said softly.

Gar shook his head. “I came up behind you; if I’d wanted you dead you'd be dead. Shut up and listen.” 

Tom gave a slow nod, but kept his scowl.

“Something is using corroded magic. It was at the borders an hour ago and now it's halfway here. It's going to continue coming here, and it's bad news.” Gar held up a hand. “No, it's not me, my magic got inspected by the Queen's Guard here so you can verify that. It is, however, a lot of bad news. Even demons try to avoid it, unless they have a death wish.”

Tom narrowed his eyes. “And what would that be?”

“I never knew its name.” Gar shook his head. “I only ran into it once before and that was all it took for me to decide I never wanted to meet it again.”

Tom tilted his head before nodding. “You're many things, Protector Bluemoon, but a coward and a liar isn't one of them.” He sighed. “What exactly is going on, do you know?”

Gar shook his head and shrugged slightly. “To an extent, but I never went seeking this being.”

“Could we kill this being if it does attack?”

Gar shook his head. “It’s a dragon.”

“Dr-” Tom spluttered. “A dragon. Are you certain?”

Gar nodded. “Its magic is more controlled than that of a demon’s.” Gar tilted his head as he tried to rouse the memories of his sole meeting with the being. “At least, it used to be.”

“Aren't they all bound to kingdoms, though?”

“You know who the dragons are among you, Prince Fischbach.” Gar glanced at Ethan. “You know what their magic feels like, how it flows. You can find the magic of the invading dragon fairly easily if you just look for it. You'll know there is nothing holding them back.”

Tom made a face and nodded. “I suppose so. Do you know what it wants?”

Gar shook his head. “Nothing good.”

Tom scowled again. “We can't defend against a dragon. The city isn't built for it. Do you at least know what kind of dragon it is?” 

“It's a native variety, if that's what you're asking. Grayish blue scales. I never got close enough to see what kind of breath weapon it had.”

Tom sighed. “Grayish blue. What does that limit it to? Ice? Lightning? Smoke?”

“That depends if it was fully grown when I saw it.” Gar tilted his head. “Adolescents’ scales can change in hue, and light grayish blue reveals different things than dark grayish blue or metallic and jewel colors. There was nothing distinguishable when I saw them, so any of those is technically an option.”

“How long ago did you encounter this dragon?”

“About 300 years.”

Three simultaneous gasps came from behind Molly, and Gar glanced to see the unfamiliar noble and his two guards staring at him with wide eyes.

Tom turned to Ethan. “Do you know of any native dragons that would have been adolescents then?”

Ethan nodded. “Both early and late adolescence. He didn't mention a parent, though, so I'm assuming late adolescence.” Ethan paused, then frowned. “Unless the parent was killed somehow. I'd be more worried about that, if it were the case.” He shook his head. “Anyway, there are two oth- two of them. One is currently bound to the Realms, and her royalness here would be identifying them, so it’s clearly not that one. The other went north and disappeared into the tundra and hasn't been seen since.”

“I don’t know what conversation the three of you are having, but I get the feeling it’s not the kind you want people to overhear.” That was the same unknown voice as before, but Gar still didn’t know if it was the noble or one of the guards. Probably the noble.

Tom didn’t move his gaze off Gar as he answered. “It’s not.”

Molly’s hand went on Gar’s shoulder, as if ready to pull him away.

“Well, there are people entering. Including the Queen and Princess. Just thought I’d mention that.”

“Thank you, Duke,” Molly said. “Gentlemen?”

Tom sighed and dipped his head. “I’ll find my brother. Ethan, stay next Amy and Rose.” Tom’s eyes met Gar, and there was a certain promise of death if anything happened. “And you, Captain, go arm yourself. You have your own duties to fulfill to your queen.” Tom looked around. “Duke Maron, I hate to do this at exactly this moment, but I’m considering you delivered to the Queen of the Seven Realms and her Protector. They are now in charge of your safety and travel.”

“Of course.” That same unknown voice said. “Not a problem.”

Gar turned and gave a quick bow to Molly, then darted off to get his sword.

\-----

Gar returned to the hall in just under fifteen minutes, having run the entire way to and from the Realms rooms.

Running with armor on was hard. One would think Gar wouldn’t be bothered by it, after having been a warrior of some kind or another for nearly a thousand years, but no. Well, he was used to it, and he wasn’t out of breath as he came to a stop in his customary place a few steps behind Molly (and one step to the right of her, as protocol and practicality ordered), but it was still uncomfortable and annoying.

Just a few feet away, Tom was speaking with Mark and Tyler. A few feet away from them, Ethan was standing at attention next to Amy and the infant princess, eyes flicking from sight to sight and person to person incredibly rapidly.

On the other side of Molly was Duke Maron, and the two tall men who served as his guards—and tall was definitely the way to describe them. Especially the bearded one. He was even taller than Wade.

“Hi.” The shorter of the two waved. “I’m Link. This is Rhett.”

The bearded man nodded at his name.

“And this is Duke Jordan Maron of Adroy.” Link gestured to the noble that had spoken up earlier, and Gar got his first good look at the man.

Jordan was short, shorter than Gar, shorter than Molly, and definitely shorter than Rhett.

“Hi. I guess I’m ‘Jordan Maron of the Realms’ now, since I got handed over.” Jordan gave a gesture of greeting, but didn’t look away from the crowd. “Nobody from Bossatron? I thought the Land of the Squirrels and Bossatron were on good terms.”

“They are.” Gar nodded, then pointed to a single figure dressed in the Bossatronian royal green. “They sent an ambassador.”

“I saw that, but isn’t it customary, almost required, to send another royal to these sorts of things?”

“Usually. The only royals are King and Queen McLoughlin and their two children, though.”

“Hmm.” Jordan looked over the crowd assembled again. “I knew the old king and queen were killed by the Demon Prince, but I thought several of their children weren’t.”

“Most of King McLoughlin’s siblings were killed in the fighting brought by Suzerain.” Gar tilted his head. “Only his parents and one sibling died by the sword of the Demon Prince.”

“And his nieces and nephews? Weren’t they killed too?”

“Yes.” Gar grimaced at the memory, glad not for the first time that his mask covered his expressions. “They were killed by the Entertainer while the Demon Prince was fighting King McLoughlin’s parents.”

“Ah.” Jordan looked over at Gar. “So why are you and Molly here, then? You have even fewer people with royalty magic.”

“King Fischbach spent quite a few of his childhood years in Primus, and King Barnes decided it would be unfair to not respect the friendship the two had forged during that time by not sending us.”

“I mean, King Barnes has a younger brother, doesn’t he? Why wasn’t he sent?”

“Ambassador Barnes doesn’t have royalty magic.” Gar said softly before turning his attention to Molly. Their binding had been shaking more and more with worry and nerves and anxiety over the past few minutes. “It’ll be over soon.”

“I know.” Molly took a deep breath before unfolding her arms, revealing that her hands were shaking. “But knowing what’s coming, and knowing Wade hasn’t been told about it…” Molly shook her head. “What if we don’t come out of this alive?”

“You will. I can promise you that much.”

A giant shadow crossed the giant stained glass on the other side of the hall, and then the wall exploded.


	6. Hollow Reassurances

Patrck jerked awake as raw panic ran across his and Wade’s binding, and was out of bed and out the door before he even thought about apologizing to Marie for waking her so early (was it still dark out—it was still dark out, wasn’t it). He was in Wade’s rooms before he remembered he wasn’t dressed in his normal uniform, much less wearing armor—but he had managed to grab his sword from next to his bed.

Wade’s common room was empty, so Pat moved to his bedroom. Wade was sitting on the edge of his bed, twisting his wedding ring around his finger with a dismayed expression.

“What’s wrong?” Pat asked, allowing himself into the room.

Wade glanced up, raised an eyebrow, and returned to looking at his hand. “The marriage bond…” He shook his head, his voice shaking. “Something’s wrong. I think Molly got hurt.”

Pat frowned. “Let me see what I can sense from Gar.” Being the King’s Protector did have its advantages from time to time.

He closed his eyes and concentrated. He knew Gar well enough by now that it was really easy to sense him. There wasn’t much to sense, though.

“He’s alive, and in Iplier, but that’s all I can tell.” Pat opened his eyes.

Wade let out a long breath. “Okay. He’s probably with her, then, right?”

“Absolutely.”

Wade touched his wrist, where Molly’s personal insignia had appeared so long ago, and nodded slowly. He was still frowning, but the panic across the binding had settled to unease and fear.

“Are you okay?” Pat asked, knowing full well the answer was no.

“We shouldn’t have sent her.” Wade closed his eyes and shook his head slowly. “We should have sent someone else—anyone else.”

“Gar will make sure she gets back alive.” Pat sighed. “That’s all we can hope for right now.” He paused and looked down at himself. “I’m going to go get dressed, and then I’ll be back. I get the feeling neither of us are going to get anything productive done until we know what happened.”

\-----

PJ looked up from Phil to see Dil hesitantly standing in the doorframe to Phil’s room. He nodded, and Dil walked in and knelt on the other side of Phil.

The two stayed like that for a minute, Dil taking in Phil’s condition and PJ sitting in his chair and holding Phil’s hand (it made keeping an eye on him a lot easier, and allowed him to take some of the pain away from Phil and pass energy to him, if necessary) before Dil looked up.

“Dan told me it was bad this morning.” It wasn’t a question.

PJ dipped his head, but didn’t say anything more.

Dil bit his lip. “What if he dies?” It was clear he was referring to Phil.

“Then he’s buried. Avalier might demand Dan’s return. Everyone is sad.”

“…And what would happen to you?”

PJ shrugged. “I’m expecting to die a few minutes after Phil, whenever that happens.”

Dil frowned. “And then what?”

“You’ll probably end up ruling the Third Realm.” PJ shifted in his seat. He’d only been at this for a couple of hours. It would be at least six or ten more before he got a break—might as well make himself comfortable.

Dil’s frown deepened. “Do you need me to join in on the rotation you and Dan have going? I can help.”

PJ tilted his head. “I don’t know.”

“I’ve seen how rough it gets.” Dil reminded.

This was true. Dil had seen the long-term effects doing this had on Dan and PJ (last year, PJ himself had been so exhausted by the time Phil had started coming out of the illness that he had gotten sick himself—and had stayed sick for several weeks).

“I’ll talk to Dan about it.” PJ smiled reassuringly at the Heir to the Third Realm, despite how worried he was himself. “In the meantime, how’s the wedding planning going?”

Dil snorted. “Lovely. Why was I put in an arranged marriage again?”

“It’s fairly customary for nobles. Why, do you not like Tabitha?”

Dil shrugged. “It just seems like Dan and Phil doubted my abilities to decide on it myself, is all.”

“It’s more complicated than that.” PJ shook his head, then paused. “Where’s Bob?” The Bob in question was not the advisor to Lord Woodward in the Seventh Realm, but Dil’s Protector.

“Waiting outside the hall door.” Dil waved the comment off, even as something shifted slightly on the binding between PJ and Phil. “How complicated can it be? I know I have to marry a noble, surely I could marry one from a different kingdom if there’s one eligible.”

Phil shifted slightly, and he coughed. Had he not been sleeping propped up on pillows, he likely would have choked on whatever was making him cough. As it was, Phil’s left hand tightened around PJ’s right, pain shooting through both of them with each cough.

Grimacing, PJ carefully, oh so carefully, pulled some of Phil’s pain to himself.

PJ’s chest began to burn and ache, but Phil’s coughing eased, and then stopped. Not that that meant Phil was in the clear—no, Phil was now simply taking wheezing breaths as his body tried to get enough air.

PJ let himself drop against the back of his chair, trying desperately to adjust to the pain this brought. It was worse than past years. There was simply no denying that.

Finally, as Phil’s breathing eased into soft wheezes and pants and gasps, and PJ managed to make his own lungs work again, a strained smile quirked across Phil’s mouth.

“Marrying someone from a different kingdom is a lot of work.” Phil’s words were a little breathy, a little strained, but that was it.

Dil’s eyes widened and he shot into a standing position. “I didn’t know you were awake for all that.”

“He wasn’t.” PJ chuckled.

“How did—“

“I heard that last part.” Phil opened his eyes. He blinked once, then twice, before turning his head to look at Dil. 

“Oh.” Dil rubbed the back of his neck. “How was that, by the way? When you and Dan got married?”

Phil laughed faintly, only to have the laughter turn into coughs. 

Dil hesitated, then stood as Phil continued coughing. “Should I get the healer?”

PJ was about to say no, that everything would be alright in just a minute, that Phil would push through the coughing fit, but a fresh ripple of pain ran across the Protector binding he had with Phil: wet, incredibly raw pain.

And with the next cough, blood flecked Phil’s lips.

PJ nodded at Dil. “Hurry.”

Dil darted out of the room. PJ wrapped both his hands around Phil’s, and panic ran across the Protector binding he had with Dan.

“Dan’s coming,” PJ managed, though his lungs were burning with the pain he was taking from Phil. “We’ll spend some time healing you, ease the pain.” PJ almost choked on the next words. “You’ll be okay.”


	7. Dragon

Molly was in pain.

Gar struggled to his feet--his leg wasn’t responding the way it was supposed to but he didn’t have time to look at it--and his body autopiloted to follow the screaming of his Protector binding. It was a feeling he was used to, from all his years being forced to act by demon bindings.

Only when he had hauled Molly from the rubble did he regain full awareness of his body and the surroundings.

The world was filled with screams and cries and dust and wet and grumbles and the unmistakable roaring of an angry dragon.

Molly cursed, one arm held tightly against her side, even as heavy rain pelted them from a rapidly darkening sky.

“Everyone  _ go!” _ Mark’s voice cut across the chaos--it was powerful, underlaid with the unmistakable feel of the magic of the Land of the Squirrels.

Already, the rain had pinned the dust, so Gar’s only difficulties seeing around came in the form of thousands of tiny drops of water dropping through the sky at high speed.

Mark and Tom were standing together, Tom’s arm slung over Mark’s shoulders, blood soaking clothes where their bodies met.

Ethan was standing unwaveringly in the howling winds, hair whipping wildly, gaze fixed firmly on the dragon that had caused all this. His hand was clenched, and faint blue sparks were dancing across his fingers.

Amy stood behind Ethan, curled around the wailing Crown Princess. 

On the other side of Gar, Rhett had the limp form of Jordan in his arms, blood dripping down fingers and arms as the rain washed out whatever wound the Duke had just received.

And roaring and stepping through the rubble of the ruined walls was a giant dragon with gray and electric blue two-tone scales.

“This way!” Ethan shouted at Gar, his voice barely loud enough to hear.

“THE KING OF ADROY SENDS HIS REGARDS.” The dragon boomed, and more screaming sounded.

“Tom!” Mark shouted.

Gar looked over to see Tom staggering away from Mark, hand dropping to his sword. He couldn’t quite make out what Tom said, but Mark was shaking his head.

“I’m not leaving you!”

“You know our duties!” Tom snapped, voice barely audible over the roaring and crashing and screaming. “Go! 

It only took a single moment for Mark to be with them, but it was impossible to tell if he was crying or if his face was just coated by rain or both.

Mark and Ethan led them through and over the rubble as fast as possible. Gar fell so many times on sharp edges and slippery surfaces as he tried to help Molly over those same chunks of rubble. 

His leg was burning by now, and every time he looked down he couldn’t tell if the dark soaking his leg was water or blood. He needed to stop and heal himself, and heal Molly and Jordan (who was still in Rhett’s arms), but he didn’t have the time. Not with the dragon so close.

It only took a single moment for Gar to slip again. Pain ran across his body, focusing on his arm and leg, and the world jerked out of focus.

Arms went around him and pulled him up.

Who was dragging him along? He could tell he was moving, but his own limbs weren’t working properly. But who was strong enough to haul him like this- what was he trying to do. 

Molly.

He needed to get Molly out of here.

Gar tried to follow the binding, follow the panic screaming across it, but his own body screamed instead.

He must have lost consciousness--he was on his back. Rain was hitting his mask full force, leaking onto his face, dribbling into his mouth.

Agony ran over his body.

Molly. He had to find Molly. He had to.

A soft murmur sounded--or maybe Gar was already losing consciousness again and was drifting farther away from the voice.

The next time he managed to open his eyes, he saw the ears of a horse in front of him. It took far too much effort to lift his head and look around, and even more to keep the world from completely tipping sideways.

They were in stables. Mark was standing next to Amy as she mounted a horse, brushing the baby’s head with his thumb before handing her to Amy. Then he pulled something from around his neck and passed that over as well.

The ground shook and the magic of the land wailed, ripping into Gar’s own magic with a vengeance. 

Gar woke once more to the crackle of a fire and a warm body next to him. The sky was dark, but the three moons were clearly visible through leaves.

Gar turned his head to see Molly asleep next to him.

Okay. Good. She was safe.

Gar slowly pushed himself into a sitting position. His left arm moved on top of him, and he glanced at it to see it was braced with sticks and tied in an equally improvised sling. His right leg throbbed, clearly protesting the bloodstained cloth tied around it.

“Hey.” Ethan said softly. “Glad to see you didn’t die.”

Gar groaned. “I wouldn’t go that far.” He winced. “What happened? I don’t remember much after the dragon. We were in stables?”

Ethan nodded, poking a stick into the fire. Sparks drifted lazily into the air, and Ethan watched them for a minute.

“Tom died.” Ethan took a deep breath. “Tom died and Mark decided to stay to maintain the magic. He marked Rose as the next heir to the throne, so even wh- if he dies, the magic will stay stable.” 

Ethan glanced up and across the fire, and Gar followed his gaze to see Amy curled around Rose. Both seemed to be asleep.

“Mark begged Molly for asylum for them. She agreed.”

Ethan looked to the final side of the fire, where more sleeping people lay. “Jordan’s pretty badly hurt. He hasn’t even woken like you have, or stirred when we poked you--and yes, I poked you a few times. He might be dead by morning.” Ethan frowned. “I’m not sure what we’re going to do with his guards.”

Gar nodded slowly, looking around the rest of the area. They were in a forest, and the horses were grazing and dozing a short distance away. “I wasn’t much use there. Sorry.”

Ethan shrugged. “You got hit by a giant flying rock and then fell twenty feet. All things considered, you did pretty well.”

Gar rubbed his leg, getting a feel for the injury. Then he made a face. “I’m not surprised I fell. My leg is broken.”

“You’re going to have a tough time.” Ethan admitted. “Travel might do you permanent damage.”

Gar shook his head. “I can probably heal myself before we move too much.” He slowly rolled to one knee, gasping at the pain that brought his injured leg. “You said Maron was badly injured?”

Ethan stood and hauled Gar to his feet, pulling his one good arm over his shoulders. “Yeah. I’m assuming you want to try and heal him?”

Gar nodded.

Gritting his teeth at the pain, Gar (with Ethan’s help) made his way to the unconscious form of Jordan Maron. He was definitely hurting his own leg more, but if JP could live with a permanent limp then so could Gar.

Jordan seemed gray as Gar looked at him, and the clear reason for that was whatever was being blocked by the improvised bandage wrapped around his stomach.

“What-” The world swayed slightly, and Gar tightened his grip on Ethan. “What happened to him?”

“One of the rocks slammed into him. He’s all cut up.” Ethan explained as he helped Gar sit next to Jordan. “As I said, I don’t expect him to survive until morning.”

“I hope I can keep that from happening.” Gar reached for Jordan’s life force.

Injuries were weird sometimes. The physical injury didn’t always line up with the damage to to the life force. Wade had noticed it a few times, but his magic was strong enough that he was usually able to brute strength his way through it.

Gar did not have a brute strength kind of magic.

This was relevant because, of course, Jordan had that kind of wound.

The duke’s life force was almost ripped in half, but the tear was diagonal, running from the uninjured hip to just shy of the shoulder above the gash. Worse, everything near the tear was extraordinarily frazzled, fraying enough to look like mist.

Jordan’s magic threads, though, were a beautiful silver that glinted blue whenever Gar tilted his head.

Gar turned his attention away from Jordan’s magic and to fixing the life energy strands.

It was going to be a long process. Gar had to first twirl all the frizzes into strands, and then he could go about weaving the strands back together.

He was only halfway through the process of weaving everything back together when he had to just stop and breathe. Instantly, the real world wavered once again.

Gar flopped backwards, trying hard to stabilize everything.

“You okay?” Ethan peered at him, his head drifting into two, then three copies of itself before they drifted together.

“How is he now?”

Ethan’s head disappeared. “I think he’ll survive. He’s going to have a rough recovery ahead of him, but he’ll make it.”

Gar sighed in relief. “Good.”

He wasn’t sure how long he stayed there, watching the moons split into copies of themselves and slide back together, before he looked back over at Molly. “Has anyone from the Realms contacted us?”

Ethan shook his head. “I’m not sure who’s best to talk to, either. King Barnes is going to have too many protective barriers in place for me to do it, and I don’t know anyone else well enough to try and talk to them.”

“I’ll do it.” Gar said, adjusting his broken arm in its sling. He glanced up at the moons again. “It’s late, but that’s okay. I’ll find someone.”

“And then?”

“And then we’ll head for the Realms. There’s another member of the Wolf Guard waiting with our ship, and he’ll be able to help with everything.” Gar groaned again as his leg throbbed. “And maybe I’ll be able to get time to recover enough for the world to stop swimming.”


	8. Custody

PJ bundled himself deeper into his cloak and patted his horse softly. “There it is.”

Dan  _ hmm _ -ed and nudged his horse forward. 

The “it” in question was the ship that was just now pulling into the harbor, returning from the Land of the Squirrels. Scorch marks were barely visible on the wood through the fog, as well as deep gouges along one side.

PJ frowned. That was making a bad trip even worse--it meant everyone on board that ship had been attacked by something big. And that someone not only included Molly and her two members of the Wolf Guard, but the queen and crown princess of the Land of the Squirrels, and Maron and his two guards. And nobody knew what to do with those last three.

To make matters worse, PJ could feel a definite weight in his chest. He wasn’t sick, no. It was Phil. Still Phil, actually, even though winter was almost over. He was doing better than he had been, for sure, being able to handle short stretches of moving around and appearing in public. He’d even managed to stay for the entirety of Dil and Tabitha’s wedding and reception (though PJ was sure Phil would have attended even if he’d been in a coffin).

Molly was first off the ship, closely followed by a member of the Wolf Guard--Daniel, if PJ remembered correctly.

“Good morning, your majesty,” Dan greeted quietly, “and welcome to the miserable weather of the Third Realm.”

“Good morning.” Molly dipped her head. “How’s Phil?”

“Alive.”

“That’s all we can ask for at this point.” Molly glanced at PJ. “Protector Liguori.”

PJ bowed from his horse.

The next people off the ship were unfamiliar to PJ, but the woman carried an incredibly sad regality. Queen Nelson of the Land of the Squirrels, then, and the bundle in her arms the infant princess. And the blue-haired guard following them--something about him seemed incredibly familiar.

And last came three unfamiliar men, hands bound behind their backs and lacking weapons--the shortest of the men was gagged as well--and the now familiar mask of Garuku Bluemoon, former Demon Prince, Protector to the Queen, Captain of the Wolf Guard and the Royal Guard.

Gar was limping.

The other thing that caught PJ’s attention was how tall the non-gagged Adroy men were. One, with dark hair, was tall, perhaps a little shorter than PJ himself. The other, however, with medium hair and a beard, was taller than PJ.

“Is that everyone?” Dan asked.

Gar dipped his head.

Dan nodded and dipped his head to the second queen. “We have space in the carriage for you and the princess, as long as you don’t mind sharing with her majesty.”

“Thank you.” Amy said.

Dan followed the two queens to get them settled, the blue-haired guard and Daniel following, leaving PJ and Gar with the three Adroy men.

“I’m going to assume they don’t want us dead,” the tallest one said to the other non-gagged one, “or they’d have dumped us a long time ago.”

“For now.” PJ turned his horse. “We have a wagon for you--it’s covered, so you’ll be sheltered from the worst of the weather.”

“It’s like they don’t want us to run away.” The tallest one shook his head as he complied and walked over to the waiting wagon.

“He’s got a crossbow on his horse.” The dark-haired one sent a pointed look at PJ. “I don’t want to even try.”

\-----

By the time they arrived in Triol two weeks later, PJ had learned names. The short one, who was usually gagged, was Duke Jordan Maron, and the two guards were Rhett and Link. They were all fairly nice, and perfectly willing to cooperate with everything anyone asked of them.

That didn’t make them friends, though. Adroy didn’t want them, not since they’d left the kingdom, and they needed to be delivered to Wade for judgement on whether or not they were bad for the Realms.

“I want to meet them.” Phil murmured over the healer examining him. “All of them.”

“They’re all resting from the journey right now.” PJ shook his head. “Like you should be.”

“You’ve been telling me this all winter.” Phil protested.

“Stop talking.” The healer glanced up. “I need to listen to your breathing.”

Phil rolled his eyes, but obeyed.

“Dan’s getting them settled now.” PJ continued. “Molly suggested sending Cap up here to see if he can help you any.”

“This ‘Cap’ is a healer?” the healer asked.

“He has both training and magic for it.”

“Then it would be useful.”

PJ paused at that. The entire winter, the healer had been adamant that Phil would recover.

“I’ll be fine.” Phil promised, though the smile he gave seemed weak--too weak.

The healer finally stood and collected his things. “I’m going to speak with Lord Howell.”

PJ dipped his head, and Phil dropped his back against his pillows. Instantly, his hand was shaking as he went to run a hand through his hair.

PJ closed his eyes and, for the first time in a month, really listened to what the binding between him and Phil was telling him.

Phil’s body was tired. It was tired of fighting for breath every moment of every day, even with the hibernating plants on the shelf above Phil’s head. It was tired from fighting illness all winter. It was tired of trying to stay warm, even under the mountain of blankets piled on Phil.

“Peej.” Phil said softly, wearily. “Don’t.”

PJ opened his eyes and held out his hand. “One more try.”

Phil let out a shaky breath, and a soft cough, but shook his head. “It won’t do anything.”

“I have to try.” PJ shook his head, trying to keep his heart from jumping into his throat. “Please. Let me try.”

After what felt like an eternity, Phil moved his hand to PJ’s. “One last time.”

PJ nodded and wrapped his other hand around Phil’s, creating a hand sandwich.

The binding between them was, at least, as strong as ever. PJ somehow forming one with Dan hadn’t damaged this one any.

PJ reached inside himself and just sat there for a minute, getting his imaginary fingers on every space of his magic and life force and letting himself feel it.

And then he focused on Phil.

Normally, Phil had protections in place to keep this kind of thing from happening accidentally, but they were gone. Not because Phil had willingly lifted them, no, but because he was too tired to do anything about it.

Phil’s life force felt wrong, like a rug that was on the last leg of its life. It was too damaged, too drained of energy to repair itself and heal.

Well, PJ could fix half of that.

Any Protector had the potential to give energy to their noble. It was just one of the things that came with the job.

It was, however, incredibly painful to tear all the spare energy from your life force and magic. Phil had said it was painful receiving it, but it couldn’t have been as bad as it was to give it.

PJ paused as a hand landed on his shoulder, aware he was gasping from the pain, but then pushed ahead, sliding it in with Phil’s energy and getting it settled there.

Instantly, Phil’s breathing eased, and he stopped wheezing. By the time PJ managed to open his eyes, Phil was definitely less gray than he had been before, and a decided strength had come back to his gaunt frame.

“Alright.” Dan murmured, pulling one of PJ’s arms over his shoulders. When had he gotten in the room? “Now that that’s done, let’s get you some rest. You’ve done plenty for now.”

Phil nodded reassuringly. “It helped.” He coughed, but this time his entire body didn’t shake. 

“We need to talk.” Dan said as he helped PJ out of the room. “Still. Don’t think you’ve escaped that conversation just because I’ve been gone for a month.”

PJ didn’t catch Phil’s response, as Dan was pulling him too far away too quickly. And then they were crossing the hall to PJ’s rooms and Dan was setting him down on the bed.

“You know he’s not going to like it.” PJ murmured. “He keeps insisting he’s fine.”

“You just gave him all your energy.” Dan gently pushed PJ down. “He’ll be alert for a while. I’ll keep an eye on him.”

PJ frowned. “We both know how this is going to end.”

Dan let out a long breath, then stood. “Yes. We do.”

PJ sighed, closing his eyes. As a child, he’d never imagined this would happen while he was so young. “Dan?”

“Yes?”

“Make sure Sophie’s okay. After it happens, I mean.”

A long moment of silence. “I will.” Dan finally said. “She won’t be alone through it.”


	9. Right of the King

The first time the magic had talked to Wade after he’d been crowned, Pat had been startled to realize he could sense the mood of the conversation.  He couldn’t tell what was being said on either side, as Wade was silent, but he’d been able to tell it was a pleasant greeting.

The magic spoke to Wade a couple of times a year. A few times were cordial, a few serious. Most were a mix. Probably because they were talking about the general state of the kingdom.

This time, though, it felt much more somber.

They were in the privacy of Wade’s office. Well, sort of. Wade was standing on his balcony overlooking the training courtyard, staring into space and ignoring the snow falling on him. (The snow hadn’t been falling when he’d moved to stand there, so he was probably distracted by the conversation he was having.)

Pat stood from his chair and walked up to Wade, adjusting his arm as he did so.

Wade glanced over Pat approached, but said nothing.

Pat just leaned on the railing and looked at his hands.

The prosthetic MatPat had made was wonderful, it really was. It did a lot of things he missed from having two hands. It pet Ophelia. The fingers moved wonderfully under pressure if he had the flat switch on the side relaxed, and he could hold Marie’s hand with it or cuddle with her. If he moved the switch, the fingers locked into whatever position they were in, so he could hold cups with it or spoons or whatever.

But he missed his hand. He missed the weight of his wedding ring.

When he’d died protecting Wade in the Fifth Realm, he’d died. He’d had a funeral. Technically, Marie had been released from the marriage with his death.

And then he’d been dead for two years.

Pat sighed and went onto his elbows, leaning on the railing.

When he’d woken after getting his arm amputated, Marie had been there at his side. He’d been too drowsy from the painkillers to remember much of the conversation they’d had, but it had ended with them curling up together on his bed as he drifted off to sleep again.

And they’d talked about it from time to time, but they were technically no longer married. That had legally dissolved with his death.

He should fix that.

Wade sighed and pulled his hands from the railing.

Pat looked over. “How was the conversation? Is the magic doing okay?”

“It’s concerned.” Wade frowned. “With what happened in Iplier and the repercussions around the Land of the Squirrels, especially with Tom’s death, it’s worried the same will happen here.”

“I don’t think we’ve done anything to anger a dragon.” Pat shrugged, though his heart had dropped at the thought.

“That’s not its worry. It’s not as strong as it wants to be.” Wade shook his head. “The past several generations... we’re at an all-time low for nobles, and only two Realms have the chance to get any more within a year or so. And the Second and Fourth Realms are missing their second ruling noble.”

“Wasn’t Jordan Maron supposed to go to the Second? Marry Jess?”

Wade nodded and pulled away from the balcony. “Is he trustworthy, though, or is he going to sabotage us from the inside?”

“I mean, Molly told you he’s been cooperating. That might be an indication of some kind.”

Wade  _ hmm _ -ed.

“The two guards.” Pat stood casually. “Their families are here. We can pay them a visit--or have someone else pay them a visit if you’re worried about safety--and see if they have anything to say about it.”

Wade nodded slowly, but he seemed distracted still.

Pat narrowed his eyes. “What else did the magic say?”   


“Can you sense PJ?” Wade’s voice was soft.

Pat paused, but closed his eyes and gripped the railing with his right hand. PJ was always a little hard to grasp with this sensing thing Pat had going on. On the best of days, he sort of floated between Dan and Phil. On the worst days, it was like trying to grab a fish from a bucket.

Today was a worse day.

Finally, though, Pat managed to get a solid connection.

Calm filled his mind. Calm, and something else.

Pat swore softly, pulling himself back to his body. “He’s tired. More than that, it’s like something is dragging him and he doesn’t have the strength to fight it.” He hesitated. “Or he doesn’t want to.”

Wade nodded, expression grim.

Pat frowned. “Does this mean what I think it means?   


“Most likely.”

Pat sighed. “That’s... rough. Did the magic tell you how long?”

Wade shook his head. “It’s not even sure it will happen this year.” Wade closed his eyes. “But it will in the next few.”

“What will happen to Dan?”

“The treaty doesn’t specify.” Wade turned and walked back into his office. “But if he stays, he’s giving up the right to all nobility in Avalier.”

Pat followed, closing the balcony doors behind him. “I thought he already denounced them, back when he rescued JP and Brycelyn.”

Wade shrugged. “Phil’s death might change his mind.”

Pat sighed. “And if he leaves? What will happen to the magic?”

“It will be weak for a few days, until Dil and Tabitha take over. They might be doing that soon anyway, since caring for Phil is taking up so much of Dan’s time.”

Pat nodded, then hesitated. And against his better judgement, he spoke again. “Should I ask PJ about plans when he wakes up? Because he’s asleep right now.”

Wade shrugged. “That’s your choice, as King’s Protector. I imagine it would be a depressing conversation, though.”

“It’s a depressing job.” Pat deadpanned, dropping into his chair.

“Every job has its moments.” Wade said, a bit absently.

Pat narrowed his eyes. “What else will happen if Dan stays in the Realms?”

Wade sighed and slowly sat in his chair, looking at the mess of things he had to attend to on his desk. “Then he and I need to have a long talk.”

“...About?”

Wade glanced over, looking a bit sad, then began work again. “The King’s Right.”

Pat let out a long, long breath. The King’s Right. (Or Queen’s Right, whichever was the Realms-born royal--so either at this point.) The right to dictate when and to whom a noble married, for the betterment of the kingdom.

No matter the noble’s personal feelings on the matter.


	10. The Death of Lord Lester

Gar slowly stood from Phil’s bedside, even as wracking coughs left Phil gasping for air.

“I’ll get Molly,” Gar said, “and speak with PJ.”

Phil nodded weakly. “Send Dan...” He started coughing again.

Gar dipped his head and slipped into the main room.

Molly and Dan looked up from their conversation on the couch, and PJ glanced up from his spot next to the fireplace.

“He’s awake,” Gar said. “Molly, Dan; he needs to talk with you. PJ, you and I need to talk.”

Dan and Molly stood and walked into Phil’s room, and Gar limped up to PJ.

“You can’t heal him.” The way PJ said it made it clear it wasn’t a question.

Gar just shook his head. “His life force is missing pieces. The best I can do is ease the pain of the next few days.”

PJ sighed, closing his eyes. “It’s a matter of days, then.”

“At most.” Gar paused.

PJ looked up. “He asked you something, didn’t he.”

Gar sighed, dipping his head. “Several things. Most of them were about how it would be for you when he dies.”

“Not pleasant, I’m assuming.”

“I doubt it.”

PJ sighed and put his hand on the mantle. “What else did he ask about?”

“He wanted to know if I could- if I _would_ -” Gar hesitated. “If I would give him  a sleeping draught when I ease his pain.” Gar closed his eyes. “It would allow him to slip from life instead of being dragged from it.”

PJ’s breath caught. “And?”

Gar opened his eyes. “I said I have to talk to you about it.”

PJ sighed. “You don’t have to. I’m not sure a few days makes much of a difference for me.”

“Life is precious,” Gar said simply. “Choices are a really big deal.” Not having them was a concept Gar was quite familiar with, so he was very aware of that fact. “Phil is on his deathbed. Nothing will change that.”

“Aren’t I facing that same reality?” PJ stood to his full height, absolutely towering over Gar. He didn’t seem angry, just frustrated. “Protectors die when their nobles die—and if he’s too far gone for healing, even I can’t call him back.” PJ slammed his fist into the mantle. “Some Protector I am.”

“He’s beyond calling back, yeah. But... you might not share his fate.”

PJ’s eyes flashed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Gar held up his hands. “You started drifting, remember? It’s possible that with Phil’s death, you’ll end up latching onto Dan. And if you do, you won’t die.”

PJ’s head dropped, and he let out a shaky breath. “Has that happened before, or am I a broken Protector?”

Gar let out a long breath and closed his eyes. “Neither.”

PJ went silent.

Gar clasped his hands behind his back. “I’ve seen it happen a few times, with demons. It’s rare then, but I don’t know if it’s because they don’t form deep enough connections easily, or if it’s just... that rare.”

A sob tore out of PJ, and Gar opened his eyes to see PJ crumple against the mantle, entire body shaking.

Gar put a hand on his shoulder, then guided him to the couch, ignoring the pain that that brought his leg.

They sat there for a few minutes, PJ sobbing and Gar comforting him with an arm around the shoulders.

“I can’t-” PJ choked off a sob “-I can’t even be a Protector right, and Phil needs me.” He cursed, flinching away from Gar.

Gar simply settled his hands in his lap.

PJ flopped backwards and stared at the ceiling for several minutes, tears silent this time. Then: “What are the chances?”

“You’ve already started drifting, so...” Gar shrugged. “One in five? You and Dan are much closer than you let on, and it makes a difference.”

PJ groaned and ground the heels of his palms into his eyes before flopping even more. “For as long as I can remember, I’ve known that when Phil died, I would die.” PJ’s eyes opened, revealing a shimmering mess of tears. “After a while, I got used to it. And eight years ago, when he got hit by the arrow, I could feel the binding screaming, but I couldn’t get to him—I could barely move, thanks to the arrow that tore open _my_ side.”

PJ flopped forwards, curling into himself. “And I’ve known for months that Phil wasn’t likely to survive to see Dan’s next birthday, and I... I accepted it. I accepted that my death was coming.” A sob tore out of him. “And now it might not be? Because I’m a freak of a Protector?”

Gar put a hand back on PJ’s shoulder.

PJ looked up, tears streaming down his face.

“I expected to die when I healed the magic of the land,” Gar said simply. “I had hundreds of years to get used to the thought.” He tilted his head, remembering how the power flowing through him had felt like it was tearing him apart, how it had been ripping everything out of him, how there had been nothing graceful or peaceful about the agony. “But I didn’t.” He closed his eyes. “Josh had managed to do enough that I didn’t die.”

And then he remembered the face of his own Protector, the man who had died twice for him. “Snow, however, did.”

PJ shifted slightly, likely remembering Gar had been on both sides of the Protector binding.

“In that moment, I could feel-” Gar’s voice cracked. He had felt Snow’s life force snapping, entwining itself into him, replacing what had been taken, forcing the demon magic from washing back on Gar before his assumed death.

Gar took a deep breath and opened his eyes. “It was the most painful way to have something I’d thought to be a certainty denied me.” He sighed, dropping his hand from PJ’s shoulder. “I’m not going to lie to you, Peej. No matter what happens, it will hurt. It’s really, really going to hurt.”

“Is that supposed to be comforting?” PJ raised an eyebrow, and his voice shook.

“No. It’s supposed to prepare you.” Gar pulled off his mask and wiped his face with his sleeves, not missing PJ’s startled expression. “We both know Dan will do just about anything to ease Phil’s suffering, especially at this point. So what I do for Phil depends on what you want me to do.”

PJ let out a long breath. “What will you tell people?”

Gar raised an eyebrow. “Dan will tell them that Phil died. Mourning and funeral customs will happen just like they did when his parents died from the plague.” He tilted his head. “Will Dan tell them if I helped Phil die? Probably not. It’s not exactly something you admit to the general public. Maybe your closest friends will know, and probably Wade. But no, nobody will think Phil took the coward’s way out.”

PJ let out a long, long breath, closing his eyes.

Then he nodded.

\-----

PJ didn’t usually mind goodbyes.

Goodbyes usually weren’t permanent.

“He’s barely 41,” Rosanna whispered as she emerged from Phil’s room—emerged from saying her goodbyes and her last conversation with Phil—tears already streaking down her face. Then her gaze landed on PJ and a sob tore from her.

PJ closed his eyes and took a calming breath.

He wasn’t dead yet.

“How long?” Sophie murmured softly from her seat next to PJ on the couch.

He opened his eyes and gave her a calm smile. “That depends if you want to be here for it or not.” They had told Sophie about what was going on with Phil; that while PJ might survive it, he was probably going to die. Painfully.

“I’d rather not leave you, if that’s alright.”

PJ nodded. How could he deny her this?

Molly emerged from Phil’s room, pushing Dil out. Once the sobbing Heir was gone, she closed and locked the door to the apartment. “Are you ready?”

PJ nodded again.

“Do you want to join them in the room, or stay out here?”

Sophie looked to PJ, and he hesitated. He didn’t want to leave Phil, but the room was going to be crowded as it was. Molly had to be there for Gar, and Dan wanted to be there for Phil’s last breaths.

“We’ll stay in here.” Not ideal, but it was close enough.

Molly nodded, then gave a sad smile to both of them. “Sophie, I’ll be out as soon as it’s over.”

Sophie nodded, clearly grateful for the comfort that would be coming her way momentarily, and Molly returned to Phil’s room, closing the door most of the way.

PJ turned to Sophie, only for her to pull him into a kiss. “Don’t make this worse than it already is,” she murmured.

“I don’t want to accidentally hurt you.” He could, potentially, if the pain got so bad he started writhing.

“You won’t.” Sophie wrapped her arms around him and put her chin on his shoulder. “Just let me hold you. One way or another, it’ll be over soon enough.”

Sophie continued talking, continued soothing, but her voice faded to an unintelligible murmur. The world itself faded as well, leaving PJ feeling like he was floating in something warm and thick.

He wasn’t alone, though.

“You know,” Phil’s voice said warmly, “I’m glad you’re my Protector. I don’t think I would have made it through all the awfulness of the past twenty-two years without you advising me.”

PJ smiled. “It’s been a pleasure.”

Phil sighed, and he appeared in PJ’s vision. He looked healthy again, with no gray skin and- and he wasn’t skin and bones anymore. He looked like he had before he’d been hit by that arrow. Like he had before that war had even started.

“What are you going to do, Peej?” Phil looked genuinely concerned. “Are you going to stay with Dan, or are you going to follow me?”

PJ shrugged. “Do I get a choice?”

“Well, I hope so, but I don’t know.” Phil paused and glanced over his shoulder. “I have to go. I’ve lingered too long as it is—I can hear Gar gasping for air.” He looked back at PJ. “Whenever you come, I’ll meet you.” Phil hesitated. “And if you stay, I’ll find a way to help you.”

“What?”

Phil disappeared.

Instantly, pain tore across PJ. His binding with Phil strained, then caught and tugged him deeper into the darkness.

And something just as strong was tugging him the other way.

Dan.

Dan was in pain.

The realization hit him like a brick. Him being in limbo like this was putting Dan in pain, maybe as much pain as he was in.

“What do you want to do?” a familiar voice murmured in his ear—but when he whirled, nobody was there. “Do you want me to call my prince to you? He can help you back. He’s trying to find you, but you’re too far gone.”

Prince? Did he mean...

“Snow?”

“I’m here.” The assurance was calm. “Just tell me your choice. I’ll help you whichever way.”

Fresh pain tore over PJ, and he let out a gasp, and then it was like he was drowning.

And he chose.


	11. Reunion

Spring chirped all around the palace grounds. Well, the chirping was the birds, and some insects. But spring was definitely here, and it was wonderful.

Mostly because today was the day everyone was arriving at the palace.

“Calm down.” Pat glanced at Wade from their spot in the front courtyard. “They’ll arrive soon enough.”

“I haven’t seen Molly in four months, our neighbors are now at war, there’s a rogue dragon causing chaos in that war, and you want me to calm down.” Wade gave Pat an incredulous look.

Pat shrugged. “I mean, there is that whole part of my oaths where I said I’d be the unwavering logic to your emotion, and you’re pretty emotion right now.”

Wade sort of narrowed his eyes at Pat. “I think my emotion is pretty logical under the circumstances.”

Pat flashed a grin at him.

Wade gave a nervous smile back, then returned to staring at the front gates.

Pat settled for watching Wade. 

Wade had changed in the years since becoming king. There was almost a set weariness to his shoulders now--something you’d notice only if you’d known him well before, but still. Pat noticed. The weight of the crown would do that to someone. Not the actual crown, though that was heavy as an arm (Pat had tested that), but the responsibilities.

That weight had only gotten worse with Phil’s death a month ago.

Pat didn’t know what was going on with Dan. What he  _ did _ know was that Dil would be coming to Primus for the first time as Lord of the Third Realm for the summer meetings. Dan had personally bound Dil and Tabitha as Lord and Lady of the Third Realm, stepping down in the process.

And then Dan had left Triol, accompanied by two guards. He hadn’t been spotted leaving the kingdom, though.

He was probably taking some time to mourn in his own way before making a decision on the matter. That’s what Pat would do.

“Wade.” Pat said softly as his mind returned to something he’d been contemplating quite a bit recently.

“Hmm?” Wade glanced over.

“It’s been six years and there’s no heir to the throne.”

Wade took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “I know. The magic talked to me about that, too.”

Pat sighed. “It’s kind of a necessary thing.”

“I know.”

“And it’s been six years since your wedding.”

Wade gave him an irritated look. “I know. Look, you don’t have kids.”

“I’m a Protector.” Pat raised an eyebrow. “Any children I have are pretty dang likely to be Protectors themselves. Or just die, if the magic decides it doesn’t want them. I mean, with those as my odds, why wouldn’t I want kids?” He let out a breath. “Besides... I kind of want to remarry Marie before even thinking about that.”

“You’re 36.” Wade raised an eyebrow.

“You’re 38.” Pat pointed out. “And I’m not required to be married or have kids. You are.”

Wade muttered a string of curses.

Pat shrugged. “It sucks, I know. But you’ve got duty.”

Wade muttered something that sounded-

Pat squinted at him. “You can’t swear at your duty. It’s not allowed.”

Wade cursed at him directly.

Pat just started laughing, getting another curse in return.

And that’s when the sound of horses and wheels on the cobblestone of the road reached them.

Wade instantly flipped and darted out, and Pat followed more slowly. There were the expected three horses (Gar, Daniel, and this Ethan fellow), a wagon (containing Jordan Maron and his two guards so they didn’t run away), and the carriage (with Molly, Amy, and the heir to the Land of the Squirrels).

And then Wade was running, and someone had launched out of the carriage, and Wade and Molly were hugging and-

“I’m right here.” Pat complained.

Gar chuckled, dismounting from his horse--and instantly staggered. He almost fell over--would have fallen over if he hadn’t had such a tight grip on his horse.

Pat instantly darted over.

“His leg.” Molly said. “It keeps getting worse. He’s been too tired to heal it properly, ever since he helped Phil.”

“I got him.” Pat assured, pulling one of Gar’s arms over his shoulder and putting his prosthetic around his waist for support. 

“I’ll see to him in his rooms.” Wade promised before turning to the carriage as a blonde woman stepped out with a child in her arms.

Pat glanced at them, then at the two remaining guards. Then he shrugged. “Let’s get you to your room and get that armor off, buddy.”

Gar made some pained, weary sound of vague agreement.

As the two made their way upstairs to the living quarters, Pat updated Gar on the Royal and Wolf Guards, and on Wade’s concerns with the magic.

“Oh, the magic is a nagging thing.” Gar chuckled tiredly as Pat kicked the door to Gar’s rooms closed behind him. “If Wade brought that up, it’s pushing hard for an heir. Clearly a bit difficult with Molly gone.”

“How do you-” Pat paused as he remembered who Gar used to be. “Nevermind.” He helped Gar over to his bed and set him down on it, then grinned. “Was following that particular order fun?”

“Patrck.”

“If I took off your mask, would you be blushing?”

_ “Patrck.” _  Gar actually sounded embarrassed.

Pat laughed softly. 

_ Bork bork bork bork! _

Gar gasped. “Dante!”

Tiny corgi footsteps rushed to the bed, and Dante started bouncing around--at least, as much as he could at his age.

“He missed you.” Pat laughed, even as Gar got excited Dante licks.

“Dan-te! No! Stop licking me!” Gar laughed.

Pat chuckled. “You cuddle with him. I’ll get your armor off.”

He started from Gar’s feet, since that was the part not currently occupied by exhausted giggles and barking.

And when he bumped Gar’s thigh, a distinct gasp tore from Gar.

“I’m sorry.” Pat moved away from Gar’s leg. “I didn’t mean to do that.”

“I know.” Gar replied, his voice strained. “It’s okay, Dante. It was just an accident.”

Dante gave a soft growl, then returned to cuddling Gar.

“How’s your leg?” Pat cautiously asked.

Gar groaned. “It hurts.”

“I’m surprised this didn’t happen sooner, you know.” Pat shook his head as he set another piece of Gar’s armor aside. “You’re old.”

Gar cursed at him and started struggling with his armor himself.

“No, I’ve got it.” Pat took Gar’s hands off his armor and slowly started undoing the buckles. “You take off your mask so Dante can lick you better.”

Gar grumbled something, but complied.

Pat didn’t look up for a while, but when he did, he frowned. Gar was sporting a new scar across his cheekbone, something that only emphasized the haggard look Gar bore. Almost like he hadn’t gotten enough sleep for months. Which, now that Pat thought about it, was probably what had happened.

“You look awful.”

Gar sighed. “Thanks.”

Pat pulled off another piece of Gar’s armor as Dante settled up next to him. “He really did miss you.”

“I missed him.” There was no mistaking the pain in Gar’s voice now, and Pat frowned.

“Your back is clear.” Pat pushed Gar backwards.

Gar grunted slightly, but went down onto the bed. A groan escaped him, and Pat frowned again. This time, he leaned over and put his hand on Gar’s forehead.

Gar murmured something, but it was too quiet for Pat to understand.

“You’ve got a fever, bud.” Pat sighed. “How long’ve you been sick?”

Gar answered with a very helpful shrug.

Pat shook his head and continued removing Gar’s armor. The last piece was the gauntlet over his left arm.

“Any news from the Land of the Squirrels?” Gar murmured, eyes following Pat as he moved around.

“Mark is alive.” Pat paused. “We think.” Without waiting for Gar to respond, he continued. “Every time he’s been seen, he’s looked just a bit different. Sometimes he looks like himself, sometimes he looks like you hit your head too hard and there’s three overlapping versions of him, sometimes he has a pink moustache, sometimes he moves oddly stiffly, and sometimes he’s blindfolded.”

Gar blinked and his gaze drifted to the ceiling. “That’s not good.”

“Do you know what’s going on?” Pat frowned, taking a closer look at Gar’s arm.

“The magic of the Land of the Squirrels has a defense system for when the royals are in extreme danger.” Gar paused, clearly struggling to stay awake. “It pulls ancestors from the afterlife or wherever it is we go after death and sort of... has them possess the royal. It’s not exactly accurate, but it’s the best word I’ve got right now.” Gar gave a half-hearted shrug. “The ancestors can switch control quickly, depending on who’s best for the task at hand, which means you can suddenly be dealing with the ego of a long-dead king.”

“He’s been possessed by egos.”

“Basically.” Gar shrugged. “If the magic wasn’t in control of that process, by the way, the stress of having multiple souls in one body can easily kill them.”

Pat looked up from Gar’s arm. “Have you seen this happen before?”

“Uh. Yes.” Gar winced. “Caused it myself at least twice.”

“Do you know what... ego... could be in control of Mark at any given point in time?”

“They’ll all have their tells. If you’re asking specifically, though...” Gar let out a long breath--a breath that seemed to echo a deep groan of pain. “The smartest and most ruthless. You mentioned four?”

“I mentioned five.”

Gar shook his head. “One of them will always be him. They can’t kick him out of his own body. Fortunately. What were they again?”

“Slightly-triple dude, pink moustache, stiff mover, and blindfold, I guess.”

Gar shot into a sitting position, instantly groaning and grabbing at his leg.

“I’m guessing that’s bad.”

“Yeah- yeah, it is.” Gar gasped for a moment before looking up. “I know two of them. The stiff one and the blindfolded one.” He groaned again and doubled over, grabbing his leg harder. “By that I mean I was the one to kill them.”

Pat blinked. “You really are old.” He gently pulled Gar’s hand off his leg and pushed Gar back onto the bed. “Who are they?”

“I don’t know what they’re called as egos,” Gar grimaced.

Pat narrowed his eyes. Gar was definitely sweating. “How did you kill them?” He reached for where he’d dropped Gar’s gauntlet and froze. “Wait on that. What did you do to your arm?”

Gar’s left hand was twisted slightly, hanging oddly from the arm now in Pat’s hand.

“I told you months ago.” Gar tried to pull it out of Pat’s grasp. “I broke it.”

“You didn’t say it healed wrong.” Pat frowned. “You didn’t say that about your leg, either.’

“I never got the chance.” Gar tugged his arm and got it free, then flexed his hand and grimaced.

“I mean, I guess.” Pat kept frowning, then looked up as Wade’s presence drew close. “You know your arm’s going to have to be rebroken, right? I have no idea what will happen to your leg.”

Gar shrugged one shoulder, but the door in the main room opened before he could say anything.

“It’s us.” Wade’s voice said.

“In here.” Pat called, standing and beginning to scoop up the pieces of Gar’s armor.

Wade and Molly walked in, hands intertwined.

“His arm healed wrong, too.” Pat informed, getting a frown from Wade. “And he’s got a fever. He won’t tell me how long he’s had it. And it’s got to have been months since he got a proper night’s rest. Also he got a lot of pain from me just brushing up against his leg.”

Wade scowled. “Let’s take a look.”


	12. A Father's Fears

Jason didn’t usually admit it, but he was as protective of Stephanie as he was of MatPat. He was even more protective of their children. And  _ even more  _ protective of his own.

So far, he’d been lucky. Neither of them had shown signs of the explosively powerful--and dangerous--magic of unbound Protectors.

Though, uh, when they were ages four and two, and the only symptom was that awful fever, it was really hard to tell (and also incredibly nerve wracking when one of them got sick).

Most Protectors didn’t even get married, much less have kids. There were certainly reasons for that--Pat and Marie could tell you about the emotional and legal complications of one dying, the marriage legally dissolving, and then coming back to life.

Jason sighed and looked at the fitfully sleeping child in his arms, trying to smother the worry not-so-slowly building up in him.

His daughter’s fever had just gotten higher and higher over the past three days. MatPat had, dear man that he was, sent the best healer he could find, but to no avail. Nothing had changed for the better.

The door opened slightly and Jason looked up to see MatPat slip into the room, a plate of food in his hands.

Jason sighed. “I’m not really hungry.”

“You haven’t eaten all day.” MatPat set the plate on the table next to Jason. “I’ll hold her for a bit. You eat.”

Jason glanced down at Olivia, trying to determine if she was asleep enough to not wake when the exchange was made. After a moment, he nodded and carefully passed her over. 

“I can’t help but remember how much it hurt when I didn’t have my medallion yet,” Jason admitted as he reached for the plate, “and then I just hope that’s not what she’s going through.”

“Was it that bad?” MatPat asked softly. He understood, being a father himself, that no good parent ever wanted their child to go through that kind of pain, so this was probably just curiosity. (Goodness knew MatPat was a curious man indeed.)

Jason shrugged and started eating. “Pretty bad, yeah.”

He’d been five when he’d been hit by the fever, and woefully unprepared for the raw pain it brought. Granted, most children weren’t prepared for that kind of thing--most adults weren’t even prepared for it.

At the time, he’d been hoping his magic would come in. Just like his daughter had been just before she’d taken ill. He’d had quite a few concerns that he’d be a part of the quarter of the population of the Realms that didn’t have magic, since neither of his parents had had magic--they’d been fantastic people all the same, very skilled in what they did--but he’d been holding out hope all the same.

And then had come the days of inexplicable blinding pain, the agony of feeling he was separated from his own heart, the fog that had kept him from remembering much else (though how much he would have remembered without that fog was questionable, seeing as he’d been five).

And then, then came the cooling touch of his medallion, the touch that had dispersed the fog and the pain.

And then had come the news that he had to leave his parents for proper training, and that his life wasn’t his to control anymore, because of what he’d been born as.

“I wish my parents were still alive.” Jason sighed. “They might have had some sort of idea if that’s what’s going on.” He glanced at Olivia, only to see her half-relaxed in MatPat’s arms.

“Is there an average time for the fever to last?” MatPat asked.

Jason let out a breath. “It’s not exactly something most of us like remembering, but...” But they’d talked about it anyway. There was some sort of morbid fascination knowing they’d all almost died (some closer than others), and when they’d been trapped in the living house because of heavy snows, it had eventually been one of the topics they’d turned to. 

Pat had been the one to come up with the idea, if he remembered right.

“It was four days for me. PJ doesn’t know, since he didn’t have parents or anyone to keep track of that for him.”

MatPat frowned at that, but didn’t say anything. Had he not known PJ was an orphan of unknown origins? PJ didn’t even remember where he’d come from, or how he’d survived by himself as a small child (well, he claimed a ghost had led him to shelter and food and water, but that seemed just a bit ridiculous).

“Pat took two and a half days, and he was probably seconds away from dying when he got his medallion. Felix took three and a half. Ohm... Ohm took three.” Jason frowned slightly at the reminder of his dead friend.

“So two and a half was the shortest and four was the longest?” MatPat looked at Olivia again, at her hair plastered to her forehead. “Then if there’s more than a day of this you’ll have an answer.”

Jason sighed and held out his hands. MatPat obediently handed Olivia over, then stood and picked up the now-empty plate.

“I’ll be back soon.”

“You need your sleep, Matthew.” Jason shook his head, not looking up from Olivia. “You have a Realm to run.”

“Funny thing about that--Steph’s perfectly capable of doing that. She did it just fine during the war, if you’ll remember.” He sounded rather proud of that. “A normal day is easy after that.”

“Matthew-”

“We already talked about it.” MatPat shook his head. “You’ve been there so much for me over the years I’d be a poor excuse for a noble if I wasn’t there for you now.”

Jason sighed again. “Fine.” Sometimes it was easier to just not argue with the man.

MatPat gave a self-satisfied nod and left the room, leaving Jason in silence.

Well, not silence. Olivia was making faint gasping sounds in her sleep. Eventually, that turned into fussing and faint struggles.

Jason murmured softly to her and brushed her hair from her face before putting a cool cloth there. It wasn’t much, he knew, but it was the best he had.

Oh he wished he could do more for her.

She didn’t stop fussing. Instead, her faint struggles got significantly stronger. She likely would have been full-on thrashing if she hadn’t been so exhausted from being so sick for so long.

That was a thing that had happened to some of the current Protectors. Not all of them, no, but the ones that had gotten close to dying. Pat and Felix and PJ.

Did that mean she was an unbound Protector? Or was it just a supremely bad fever?

Jason pulled her close and held her until she finally stilled, but her body remained tense.

What if she were an unbound Protector? She would have to go to the Guardians. They’d be the ones to really raise her--they weren’t bad at it, Jason had turned out just fine--but they weren’t her parents. Sure, he’d get to see her. Trainees got to visit their families once a year. Jason had gotten an entire month--most did, unless they were PJ and didn’t have any family to visit. (PJ sometimes ended up tagging along with someone, but Jason had been bound to MatPat before PJ had gotten to join him.) 

But one month a year wasn’t the same as raising her himself.

Jason frowned again. Maybe he should talk to someone about it, one of the other Protectors. Surely one of them would have some sort of comfort they could offer him. Maybe Pat? As King’s Protector he had the ability to sense Protectors, but Jason didn’t know if that applied to all of the Protectors or just the bound ones.

Or maybe that ability was split up between Pat and Gar, as King’s Protector and Queen’s Protector. Pat for sure had the ability to sense bound Protectors, maybe Gar had the ability to sense unbound ones. 

He should ask about that when he saw them next.

When he saw them.

He and MatPat were supposed to leave for the summer meetings in a week. It was a non-negotiable part of the job, it was required by the crown.

But if Olivia wasn’t recovered...

Jason frowned even more. What if she got even worse while he was gone? What if she died? There was no way he’d end up getting to attend her funeral.

The door opened again, and Jason looked up to express his concerns to MatPat, only to freeze.

MatPat was there, of course, but his expression was grim. And as he moved into the room, the figure behind him came into view.

Grayscale, already unwrapping the cloth bundle in his hands.

Jason’s breath caught, and he couldn’t help but stare helplessly. That was it, then. Olivia was an unbound Protector. He was going to lose his daughter. There was no happy ending for this one.

“Jason.” Grayscale said softly.

Jason let out a shaky breath, but uncurled his arms to let Olivia lay in his lap. MatPat’s hand slid onto his shoulder and gave a reassuring squeeze as Grayscale approached, pulling the cloth off the medallion. At least this way she would be alive. Olivia would survive, and he’d get to see her for one month every year.

One month every year until she was bound to her noble. Then who knew--he might almost never get to see her again.

Jason blinked the tears from his eyes. He wanted to see her when she woke up.

It was then he finally saw the medallion Grayscale had placed on her chest.

Black.

It was a black medallion.

Olivia was to be a royal Protector.


	13. A Strange Conversation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, look, I know I missed uploading a chapter last week. I was in the middle of finals and I totally spaced it. So I'm sorry. 
> 
> In other news, I know you guys have probably gotten used to two chapters a week, but I've been focusing a lot on writing for AAO and I haven't had a lot of spare time to devote to this. I'm going to try to continue to put out one chapter a week, but with everything going on I'm writing at least 3 chapters and making 6 videos a week. Plus I'm trying to find a job. So it's a bit hectic, and I'd rather wait to give you quality chapters than give you rushed ones.
> 
> Thanks for your patience.
> 
> Potato

Gar was off crutches by the time the first of the nobles began arriving for the summer meetings. He was still sometimes wobbly when he stood for too long, but that was to be expected when he’d had to have his leg rebroken (he really didn’t know how Wade had managed that, he’d been too drugged and in too much pain from his arm being broken so it could be set properly).

“You know,” Pat said as the two trained, “you don’t have to push yourself so hard. You don’t have to be the very best fighter here.”

“I’m not trying to be the best.” Gar grit his teeth at the decided ache coming from his leg. It was time to stop, it seemed. “I just need to be good enough that I can protect Molly.”

“Fair.” Pat leaned his sword on his shoulder and gave Gar a critical look. “I get the feeling that if I could see your face you’d look like you were about to pass out on me.”   


Gar leaned over and put his hands on his knees. “I am.”

“Please don’t. That wouldn’t be fun for anyone.”

Gar lifted his head enough to glare at Pat, but didn’t say anything else.

“Long time no see.” Pat’s gaze flicked to someone behind Gar, and Gar stood and glanced over his shoulder to see Amile standing there.

“It’s almost like we only see each other once a year.” Amile shook her head. “Strange how that works.”

Pat chuckled. “How’s JPar? And the baby?”

“Cat’s fine. JP’s figuring out how to be a dad. It’s got a pretty steep learning curve, but he’s doing alright so far.” She paused and made a face. “Except for the time he took her with us for the day and showed her what’s finished of the fortress and had to put her down for a minute and totally forgot she was there.”

Gar started laughing, and Amile smiled faintly. “She was only alone for a minute, and she didn’t eat any rocks in that time, so it all worked out.”

“I mean, I don’t think I’d do much better.” Pat shook his head. “I’ve never been a dad before either.”

Gar’s laugh died.

Pat gave him a surprised look, then seemed to realize what he’d said and frowned. “I’m sorry, buddy. I didn’t mean it like that.”

Gar sighed and closed his eyes. “No, it’s... it’s okay. I just wish I’d gotten more of a chance.”

He’d learned about his daughter the day he’d become a demon. That much he remembered. The sheer whirlwind of emotion learning that had brought... he could see why Snow had withheld that information for so long. He’d been so distracted he’d almost died several times in quick succession. (He was still upset that Snow hadn’t told him when his daughter was born, though.)

He could have sworn he met her once. He had to have, somehow. Snow never said “son” or “daughter,” so Gar couldn’t have learned that way.  He had to have at least seen her between becoming a demon and breaking the magic of the Realms.

...he had to have.

When he opened his eyes, Amile was giving him a concerned look, and he was a bit surprised to find wetness on his cheeks. 

“I take it you being here means it’s time to meet people?” Gar asked, reminding himself she couldn’t see his face because of his mask.

“King Barnes sent me to find you, yes.” Amile dipped her head.

Gar let out a breath and nodded. 

As they walked, Gar let his thoughts wander.

It was times like these he really wished he’d gotten the chance to sit down and ask Snow questions. Questions about who his daughter had been, or how Snow had learned who she was (again, Snow hadn’t ever mentioned anything about gender, but Gar was still convinced about the daughter part), or who she’d been when she’d grown up. How she’d survived the capital falling, especially with the Soulstealer saying he’d killed all of the royal family.

Gar only realized he was wobbling slightly on his feet when Pat’s hand went on his shoulder, breaking him from his thoughts.

“You need to rest, bud.” Pat murmured quietly. “You’ve done a lot today already.”

Gar sighed, but didn’t dare protest while they were in a public hallway. Not because he didn’t want to protest (he was literally just going to be standing behind Molly, it wasn’t that strenuous), but because there were definitely people in said hallway that would recognize his voice from the convergence.

So he simply shook his head.

Pat squinted at him, and Gar gave a shrug. He wanted to see his friends.

Pat raised an eyebrow, and gave a slight frown. Most of the palace staff would realize that meant they needed to follow orders, and Gar realized it. He was just going to ignore them. Pat couldn’t order him around--they were of equal rank.

So there.

“Just let me say hi.” Gar murmured.

Pat sighed, but nodded. “But then you’re going straight to rest, okay?”

Gar rolled his eyes. “Yes, princess.”

Pat smiled faintly.

When they walked into the meeting room, all three of them paused. They weren’t surprised by Wade and Molly being there, or by JP being there (Amile wouldn’t have been in Primus if JP wasn’t). No, they were surprised by the all-too-familiar figures of Bluescale and Greenscale standing there.

What was going to happen that not just one, but  _ two _ , of the Guardians were present?

“Oh, hey!” JP greeted. “Glad to see you didn’t die.”

“Why would I have died going to get them?” Amile asked.

JP rolled his eyes. “Maybe one of those drastic things you worry about when you can’t see me for more than five minutes.”

“You forgot your own daughter.”

“You don’t have to bring that up so often.”

Amile smirked.

JP sighed.

“Please don’t misplace children.” Molly shook her head.

JP stood from leaning on the table. “You wait until you have kids and see what you do.”

Wade and Molly glanced at each other, and Gar paused. Did that mean what he thought it did?

He brushed his magic over the binding and got all the answer he needed. Also several answers he hadn’t wanted. He needed to talk to Wade and Molly, though, just to make sure.

Bluescale’s eyes twinkled as she sent a decided smile in Gar’s direction.

“Wait.” JP squinted at them. “Am I missing something?”

Amile chuckled. “Probably.”

JP made a face at her, then turned to Gar. “You were limping when you walked in.”

Gar gave a half-bow, then instantly regretted it as his leg groaned in pain and he wobbled slightly. “We match now.”

“That’s not a good thing.” JP crossed his arms. “It hurts a lot.”

“I’ve noticed.” Gar said dryly. Then he turned to Wade and Molly. “Is anyone else supposed to arrive today?”

“MatPat and Cry.” Wade answered. “Both of them are grouchy about it.”

“MatPat’s got a high chance of missing his child’s birth.” Gar shook his head. “Cry’s definitely going to miss his kid’s birth. He’s been furious enough about it Felix complained to me.” Felix had clearly been so  _ tired _ of Cry’s comments on it that that entire conversation had been the equivalent of a giant hug.

“I can’t exactly delay the meetings.” Wade frowned. “Not without interfering with harvests.”

“We know,” JP said, “and these are important for the Realms as a whole. I’m not happy about leaving B and Cat, but duty is duty.”

“Duty can go jump off a cliff.” Molly muttered.

“It’s a little late for that, isn’t it?” Gar murmured.

Wade flushed a bit at that.

“I’m glad you two have been having fun.” Pat said in that tone that mean he was pretending to not enjoy himself while enjoying himself immensely.

Wade looked a bit flustered at that.

Pat chuckled.

JP, however, was staring at Wade and Molly, eyes wide. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying? Am I gonna be an uncle?”

“You’re not going to be one with Cry’s kid?” Gar asked. Had there been some sort of fight between them nobody had told him about?

JP completely ignored Gar and continued staring at Molly.

Molly dipped her head. “Yeah, you are. Mid-winter.”

JP squealed.  _ “I can’t wait!” _

“I mean,” Wade put his arm around Molly’s waist, “you have to. Things happening early would be bad.”

“Right.” JP nodded. “Of course.” He frowned. “You don’t look excited.”

“He’s nervous.” Molly said simply.

“We’re holding someone who might want us and the baby dead.” Wade gave her a plaintive look.

“You haven’t learned anything from him?” Amile asked.

Pat shrugged. “He claims he doesn’t know anything and we don’t have anyone who can tell if he’s really telling the truth or not, and we’re not going to torture him.”

“Torture doesn’t  _ do _ anything.” Gar rolled his shoulder, very aware of the scars sitting there from the demon camp so long ago. “And it hurts.”

“Nobody suggested torture.” Molly said calmingly.

JP shook his head. “You guys keep doing whatever you’re doing with that. I’m going to head to my rooms.”

“You’re welcome to join us for the evening meal,” Wade offered.

JP and Amile glanced at each other, and then both of them nodded. “Sure.”

“See you then.” Amile almost seemed to give a smile, and then both of them left the room.

“Why are you here, by the way?” Gar turned to the two Guardians.

“We wanted to visit our son.” Greenscale shrugged. “His father didn’t want to leave the trainees--you know how he gets when there are new ones.”

“Your... son?” Molly blinked.

Bluescale laughed and leaned on the table. “Yes. You know him by the name Ethan. I imagine he’ll be disappointed to hear Grayscale didn’t want to make the trip, but I’ve wanted to see him for a couple centuries.”

“Please, you could have seen him just a few decades ago.” Greenscale looked a bit annoyed at that.

“You have a significantly easier time leaving the kingdom.” Bluescale raised her eyebrows.

“I’m confused.” Wade blinked.

“Dragons have eight genders.” Gar spoke up. (That had been an interesting conversation to have.) “It takes at least three to have eggs. So parents come in minimums of threes and maximums of five.”

Wade tilted his head. “Huh.”

“Our human forms function differently,” Bluescale smiled, “though that’s out of necessity, especially for those of us permanently bound to magic. Our bodies take on the appearance of whatever most closely matches what we are.”

Molly and Wade were nodding in understanding

Pat, however, turned to look at Gar. “How does it work for demons?”

Gar shook his head. “Gender is completely irrelevant when it comes to reproduction.”

“...how do you know that?” Wade raised an eyebrow.

“Because I was a demon prince, silly.” Gar sighed. “I had to know.”

Pat smirked. “What, no-”

“No, Patrck, I do not have demon children.”

“I mean, it would be-”

_ “Patrck!” _


	14. Realms Business

Pat often enjoyed being quiet. Sometimes it unnerved people, but usually it let him observe without drawing any attention to himself at all. It had come in useful several times in the past, getting him and Wade information they otherwise wouldn’t have had.

Now, though, he was trying to unnerve people. Specifically Jordan Maron.

They’d actually gone and rearranged the meeting room to make this possible. All the spare chairs and the table had been removed, and eight chairs had been arranged to form a semi-circle. Wade and Molly sat at the head of it, with the nobles for the Second through Fourth Realms to Wade’s right and the Fifth through Seventh to Molly’s left. 

It seemed to be working, as Jordan’s gaze flicked to each noble in the rearranged meeting room, and finally landed on Wade.

Or maybe it was Bluescale leaning in the corner of the room that was doing it. She was wearing the gear she wore when she’d been training Pat (or at least something that looked identical), and something about dragonscale armor tended to freak people out. It was unnerving most of the nobles, at least, though none of the Protectors were bothered much. Granted, most of them didn’t know Bluescale was there to see if Jordan was lying when he spoke.

Pat shifted slightly, allowing his hand to drop an inch towards his sword. 

Jordan flinched.

“I don’t have any information for you.” Jordan finally spoke. “They didn’t tell me anything besides travel arrangements. They didn’t even tell me who I was supposed to be marrying.”

In her corner, Bluescale dipped her head.

Jordan was telling the truth about it, then.

Jordan glanced nervously around the room, shifting slightly as he did so. He didn’t try to get out of his hands being tied behind his back though.

“I get that you don’t trust me.” Jordan continued, taking a half-step towards Wade and Molly. Instantly, Gar’s hand drifted towards his sword, though his posture remained relaxed.

“I wouldn’t trust me either, if I were in your situation.” Jordan stopped moving.

Well, if a fight broke out or Jordan tried to kill Molly and Wade, at least Pat would have one of the best fighters in the Realms at his side.

Was it odd that they’d talked about what to do in a situation like this, despite this being the first time it ever had the possibility of happening? Before, they’d talked plans on how to get both royals to safety (they’d even talked with other Protectors to make sure they were familiar enough with the palace and Primus to be able to do that for their own nobles) with each of them taking their respective royal, but now that they were getting an heir to the kingdom…

Well, when Wade had come to them just before this and told them to prioritize protecting Molly and, by extension, the baby over him, it hadn’t been hard to agree.

Sure, it could cost Pat his life, especially if Wade ended up dead, but that kid of theirs was really the most important. Even the Wolf Guard had standing orders to take the baby and run and raise the kid somewhere else if worst came to worst—that somewhere else would likely end up being in the Seventh Realm, with the Guardians.

Gar had been the one to suggest it.

“What do you suggest we do with you, Maron?” Wade asked simply.

As if Wade and every single noble in the room didn’t know exactly what their two options were. Either Maron came out of this with a death sentence, or…

“I’ll do a Blood Oath.”

Slight nods came from most of the nobles, but Amanda, in her seat for the Fourth Realm, gave a full nod.

That made sense. She herself had come from Adroy when they’d first started treaty negotiations so long ago, and she had chosen to do a Blood Oath shortly after marrying Matthias, permanently aligning her loyalty to the Realms. Jordan had been supposed to be the final sealing of those treaties, but they’d clearly fallen through.

In fact, out of all the nobles to marry into the Realms, Dan had been the only one to not do a Blood Oath shortly after the wedding.

Of course, Dan had been the only one to get a month between the betrothal date and the wedding itself, and all the others had gotten upwards of a year, so that was quite possibly the reason.

“You would completely renounce your birth country forever to guarantee your intentions?” Wade asked.

Jordan dipped his head.

Bluescale nodded again, and Wade gestured around the room. Mostly a formality, that, since everyone had nodded earlier. “What say the Realms? Should he be allowed to do so?”

“The Second Realm says yes.” Jess said simply, as formality dictated for this.

Dil’s nervous swallow was audible. “The Third Realm says yes.”

Amanda set her hands in her lap. “The Fourth Realm says yes.”

“The Fifth Realm says yes.” Cry leaned back in his chair, and Felix inched closer. Pat would have to ask about that later.

“The Sixth Realm says yes.” MatPat didn’t take his eyes off Jordan in the middle of the floor.

“The Seventh Realm says yes.” JP, despite being the second-newest noble here, didn’t even falter in his answer.

Wade and Molly took each other’s hand, and Bluescale stepped away from the wall and began silently walking up behind Jordan. “The First Realm says yes.” They spoke in unison, which was more than a little unnerving, but not nearly as unnerving as the unmistakable feeling of the presence of the magic of the Realms.

Relief ran over Jordan’s face.

“What say the Protectors?” Bluescale’s voice rang out clear and unmistakably powerful.

Panic flashed across Jordan’s face as all seven Protectors stepped forward from their places behind the chairs.

Pat had done this before, fortunately, with both Amanda and Stephanie, so he knew what was going on. All Protectors had lessons on it, of course, but it wasn’t nearly the same thing as when you actually did it.

Last time he’d done it, though, he hadn’t been the King’s Protector. And he hadn’t had a Queen’s Protector standing next to him.

There wasn’t really any particular order to the way the Protectors stood as they circled Jordan, except that Gar and Pat had to be across from Bluescale. Then calloused hands slipped inside each other (with the exception of Pat’s left hand, where wood and metal met Gar’s calloused hand), creating a full circle of eight.

The magic of the Realm seemed to fall over them like a blanket.

The magic of the Realm hadn’t been this strong the last time Pat had done this either, and it wasn’t even at its full strength yet? Just how strong could it become?

As each of the Protectors nodded, the weight of the magic pressed harder and harder on Pat. How much worse would it have been if Gar wasn’t in the same position?

_ “He will not threaten any of the royal family.” _ The voice was soft, warm, comforting, and even more powerful than Bluescale’s had been just a minute ago.

The magic of the Realms was talking to him.

_ “He’s not quite sure what he’s doing, but no matter what will happen, his honor will keep him from hurting the royal family.” _ The magic seemed to hum slightly.  _ “Make your choice. Don’t deliberate too long, we need to do it again in just a bit.” _

Pat decided not to think about the second part of that.

So he dipped his head and allowed the magic to wash over him.

“Very well.” Wade said simply. “Jordan Maron, we’ll take care of the oath part later. If you survive it, then you’ll be back here tomorrow.”

Pat simply returned to his spot behind Wade, and Jordan was led out of the room.

“Dil?” Molly said. “You had the next piece of business.”

“It’s Dan.” Dil’s voice wavered slightly. “He came back from wherever he went when Ph-” Dil’s voice cracked. “When Phil died. He wants to speak to everyone.”

Molly dipped her head.

Two cloaked figures were brought into the room, and they pulled down their hoods to reveal Dan--Dan, who wasn’t smiling like he normally was at these meetings, who had a distinct air of grief around him--and PJ.

PJ, who was wearing an all-black uniform with white cat whiskers on it. 

Dan’s sigil, not Phil’s.

Nobles who had been relaxing in their chairs shot up and stared, clearly not expecting to see PJ there. Protectors, too, stared.

PJ shifted uncomfortably, clearly aware of the thoughts that had to be running through everyone’s minds. Being the only known Protector to successfully transfer nobles would do that.

Pat, of course, had known PJ had survived Phil’s death. Gar had known. Molly and Wade, however, had not. The royals had known PJ had initially survived Phil’s death, but Molly had had to leave before PJ had managed to pull himself out of the depths of almost-death.

Well...

Pat glanced over at Gar. PJ had the distinct feel of another Protector’s residual energy on him. Exactly one other Protector had that kind of residual energy, and that was Gar. Gar, however, had a much stronger residue on him.

Not surprising either, considering it was Snow’s residual energy.

“I made my choice.” Dan said simply. “I want to stay here, in the Realms. If that means doing a Blood Oath, so be it.”

Grins spread across the faces of every noble present, and several of the Protectors broke their professionally disinterested expressions to smile faintly.

“What say the Realms?” Molly asked.

Every noble smiled as they gave their approval.

“What say the Protectors?” Bluescale asked.

This time, the magic of the Realms didn’t just feel like a blanket. It was singing slightly, humming.

_ “I’ve spoken to him before, you know.”  _ The magic murmured.  _ “He grew up hearing Avalier’s magic sing, and it didn’t take much more for him to be able to hear me.”  _ A chuckle.  _ “Granted, this was before I was healed, so he’s not used to all of me. Perhaps I’ll speak with him again after he’s settled.” _

Pat smiled, dipping his head.

_ “Make sure one of you two speak with PJ,”  _ the magic added, and Pat felt Gar give the slightest of nods as the Protectors broke their circle.  _ “He’s not doing very well after outliving Phil.” _

No, it would be strange if PJ had taken that well. Pat wouldn’t do well if he somehow survived Wade’s eventual death.

Pat glanced at Gar, trying to decide if Gar had decided how they were going to split this up, only to see Gar a bit stiffer than he normally was. Ah. He was trying to keep from limping.

As they took their regular places, and Dan and PJ were escorted out of the room (Dan wasn’t a Realms noble again just yet, after all), Bluescale had the barest hint of a frown on her face as she looked towards them.

Gar frowned in return, so quickly Pat would have missed it if he hadn’t been watching.

Gar’s limp was a problem. It was a definite problem. Sure, JP had a limp, but JP could avoid fighting. He was a Lord, he had a Protector, and the magic itself would react to him being in danger.

Gar, however, was a Protector. He didn’t get any of those luxuries. He had to be able to run and fight for long periods of time. And sure, Gar had been training to try and be the best he could despite his limp, but it was pretty obvious at this point that he wasn’t going to get much better.

Pat pushed the thought to the side. They still had business to attend to.


	15. New Bindings and Old Bindings

While PJ himself didn’t have to go through the Blood Oath ceremony that night with Dan (seeing as he’d only ever owed allegiance to the Realms), he was still present for Dan’s Blood Oath.

More specifically, he was present for the Protector binding ceremony that would take place nearly instantly after Dan became a full Realms noble.

He didn’t really listen as Dan’s ceremony started. He already knew Dan was pledging fealty to the crown, to the Realms, and to the magic of the Realms. He didn’t have to pay attention—Molly was the royal present for this, Gar standing just a few feet away.

Instead, he kept his gaze fixed on the ground. He could see the familiar pedestal and bowl and ceremonial knife ten feet away, Greenscale standing behind it with their hands clasped behind their back.

Greenscale had been the one to bind him and Phil. Did it have to be Greenscale again? Was there some sort of rule about this? A drifted Protector could only be fully bound to their new noble by the same Guardian that bound them to their first?

Dan’s voice wobbled, and PJ glanced despite himself to see blood dripping onto the ground between Dan and Molly’s feet. He could feel a dim flicker of pain run across the binding he had with Dan, but he kept his mouth shut.

Had he made the right choice by staying? What would have happened if he’d followed Phil into death, into whatever afterlife there was? Would Dan still have chosen to stay in the Realms, or would he have returned to Avalier?

Something shifted with his binding with Dan, then the entire thing sort of dangled loosely. It was still there, but fading fast.

PJ blinked against the fog starting to slide across his mind. He’d known this was going to happen—the magic of the Realms had had to erase the majority of the bindings on Dan to make him a full Realms noble. Dan’s marriage binding with Phil supposedly hadn’t been touched, but inactive bindings probably didn’t count as things to worry about.

“Welcome, Daniel Howell of the Realms, to your new life.” Molly said, even as the world became a touch unsteady.

PJ didn’t even realize he’d been falling until hands caught him. He blinked, trying to stabilize the world, only to see Gar’s expressionless wolf mask staring down at him.

“PJ!” Dan’s shout sounded fairly distant, like he’d walked away and had only now just looked back.

PJ’s Protector binding tugged.

But he didn’t have a binding to Dan anymore. The magic had erased it. What was…

Phil.

PJ’s binding with Phil tugged again, then fell still.

“…don’t have long,” Greenscale was saying. “Without a binding to Dan, he’s got nothing to keep him here.”

Why was Phil tugging on the binding? It didn’t feel like Phil wanted him to die, it wasn’t nearly strong enough for that.

_ “You’ll see in time.”  _ That voice was unfamiliar, even though the warm feeling of the magic of the Realms was washing over him.

Some part of PJ noted his hands and voice were acting on their own, but he couldn’t find it in himself to protest. The magic was doing all it could to keep him alive.

_ “You’ve seen it before.” _ The magic assured softly.  _ “You’ll understand when it happens. But not yet. For now, you’ve only one noble to Protect.” _

Music erupted in PJ’s ears, melancholy and dark and determined and concerned and just a hint of  _ something else _ , and he blinked to see they were already at the part where his and Dan’s wounds were pressed up against each other.

For a split second, he could have sworn he saw 7 scars shimmering under the blood on Dan’s arm, but that was impossible. Not only had Dan never done this before, these cuts always healed without scars.

It had to be PJ’s magic acting up. It had to be. Random illusions had happened when he had been bound to Phil, it was a reasonable thing to be happening while he was being bound to Dan. Right?

PJ looked up, only to see Dan looking at him with a mostly blank expression. Then PJ met Dan’s eyes, and the pain and fire there stripped the remaining fog from PJ’s mind. He’d seen that before. He’d seen that when Phil had been bedridden by his injuries, when Dan had spent hours singing to Phil at a time to heal him and to give him the energy to continue on. He’d seen that when Dan had defended the Third Realm for years against Suzerain. He’d seen that when Dan was completely exhausted from battle and they’d had to continue, so Dan had drawn on the magic of the Realm and gotten back up.

Dan wasn’t on fire, but he was certainly fueled by one.

The bowl of their mixed blood splashed over their arms, turning into water on impact. Instantly, the oh-so-familiar feeling of a Protector binding returned, and PJ couldn’t help but smile.

“They’re ready to go.” Greenscale said simply.

“Alright.” Molly stepped forward, even as Dan and PJ inspected their cuts (the magic had done a delightfully steady job on PJ’s arm). “Dan, I need to speak with you.”

Dan bowed and followed Molly as she began walking.

Gar, however, didn’t follow them, and PJ hesitated.

“Gar?” PJ asked slowly.

“Follow me.” Gar turned the opposite direction and started walking. “We need to have a talk of our own.”

PJ blinked, but dipped his head and hurried to follow. “How can I be of assistance?”

“Molly is exercising the Queen’s Right at the moment,” Gar said slowly, “so I’m going to inform you what’s going on.”

“Of course.” So Dan was getting orders to court and marry one of the single nobles. They’d both known it was possible, but PJ hadn’t been expecting it to happen so soon after Phil’s death. It hadn’t even been a full year, and that was Dan’s proper time for mourning.

“Dan will be headed to the Fourth Realm when all is said and done.”

Ah. Dan would replace Matthias as the Lord of the Fourth Realm.

“You’ll be the only Protector in the Realm until Heiress Luna turns 16 in 5 years.”

“I’ve done that before.” Well, last time he’d only done it for four years, but it couldn’t be that much worse.

Gar sighed. “You’ll be Dan’s biggest emotional support. The marriage is to keep the magic strong, and while he and Amanda are friends, they’ve never had that kind of relationship.”

“Probably not going to be any romance between them, no.” PJ frowned. “Dan’s used to duty, though. We both are.”

“He’s not used to quite everything this particular duty will demand of him.” Gar warned. “Nobody expected him and Phil to be able to actually have children.”

PJ winced. Neither of the two nobles would enjoy that, but he understood why it was a thing. More nobles meant stronger magic. Especially since there were so few nobles as it was.

“This is new territory,” he finally admitted, “and you probably know more about it than I do.”

“I’ve been on both sides of the door.” Gar shrugged. “Just make sure you talk to them before and arrange things. Who knows, you might end up having to watch Luna for a few days.”

PJ raised his eyebrows at the implications. “I wouldn’t mind. Tabitha said she’s an angel to be around.”

“Probably confused about getting a step-father though.”

“Probably.”

Gar gave a nod, then stopped walking and turned to face PJ. “Dan might never be done grieving for Phil, PJ. You might never be done. The bindings you two had with him were deep bindings, and they don’t just go away.”

PJ sighed. “I mean, I didn’t want him to stay. He was in so much pain…” So much pain, and a literal husk of what he’d been in his prime. “But I understand what you’re saying. It’s going to be a difficult change. We might both have problems adjusting.” PJ hesitated. Did he dare ask?

“I can promise nothing you could say could possibly embarrass me at this point.” Gar sounded faintly amused at PJ’s expression.

“Do you think Dan could ever learn to love Amanda? That he’ll one day look forward to that aspect of his duties?”

Gar shrugged. “You know him better than I do.”

“Did you? All those centuries ago?”

Gar paused. “Ah.” He sighed. “I don’t know. I honestly don’t remember much of that time. Sometimes I’ll be reminded of something, but mostly it’s a haze.”

PJ paused. Memories. He could help with memories. A lot of illusions were manifestations of memories.

“Do you want me to see if I can help you remember things?”

“I don’t think we have time for that. I have a lot of years to remember, after all.”

“Well,” PJ frowned, “I can probably make it so they come back slowly. I mean, you weren’t a child when most of your life went down, so the memories should be buried somewhere. They might not be whole, but sometimes something is better than nothing.”

Gar hesitated. “I assume I’d remember more of what I did as the Demon Prince.”

“You might.”

Gar sighed. “I’ll get back to you on that.”

PJ nodded, then hesitated again. This time, he didn’t wait for Gar to urge him on. “Do you ever feel a tugging to… somewhere else?” Was he crazy for feeling Phil tugging on their binding from time to time?

Gar stood silent for a minute, and when he spoke, his voice was cautious. “What do you mean?”

“I can still feel my binding with Phil if I focus hard enough.” Or he was on the verge of dying. “I guess I’m asking if you can still feel the one between you and Snow.”

Gar froze, then cursed softly. “It was never broken. Death just deactivates bindings. Painfully, admittedly, but…” He took a deep breath. “Yes. If I focus hard enough, I can. It’s exhausting fighting the pull of it, though. You’re going to need all your energy in the world of the living. We still have jobs to do.”

The two of them started walking back.

“We’re unusual for Protectors,” Gar finally said, “and neither of us can really help the other navigate this newness. It’s going to be rough.”

“How did you become Molly’s Protector anyway?” PJ had never actually gotten to hear this story.

“The first time or the second time?”

“Both.”

“I used my knowledge of Protector bindings and demon bindings to improvise a Protector binding with Molly in the demon camp. The magic recognized it, but barely.” Gar shrugged. “It was mostly fueled by our friendship. It kept me from killing her the night of the blood moon, at least.

“The second time, I guess the magic of the land decided it wanted me. Payback, perhaps, for what I’d done to it so long ago. My magic became as unstable as any unbound Protector’s. Bluescale said I’m the only adult to have the fever that comes with that. At least I was already with the Guardians when that happened.

“I was given my medallion, but I didn’t get officially bound to Molly again until last year.” Gar snorted. “I’m by far the oldest Protector and I’m definitely the most inexperienced on how this works.”

“You’re the most experienced in magic.” PJ pointed out. Gar did, after all, have a millennium of using his magic.

“I suppose.” Gar glanced at his hand, then flexed his fingers and let out a small burst of frost. “Four different specializations is unusual, for sure.”

PJ blinked. “I didn’t know it was four.”

Gar nodded. “I was born with healing magic. For some reason, after Snow and I were bound, I picked up some of his ice manipulation abilities—which is weird, considering he wasn’t even someone who manipulated ice, he manipulated weather as a whole. At the same time, Tapestry was teaching me how to actually see magic.”

Gar let his hand drop to his side. “As for the fourth one, well, it was one I used a lot as the Demon Prince. It’s not one I’m comfortable demonstrating, but when war comes here I’ll probably use it.”

“Do you really think we’ll be in war again?”

Gar let out a long breath. “Yes. Adroy has a dragon on their side, or they’re under its control. Dragons don’t get in fights very much, much less full wars. The Land of the Squirrels might stand for years or even decades before they fall, but dragons live for close to 1500 years. Eventually, war will come here.”

PJ sighed, some deep part of him groaning at the thought, at the memories of the war he’d already lived through, of the war that had ultimately cost Phil’s life.

“War is an awful thing.” Gar said softly. “The Realms spent all of their fighting in the last war. It will take decades to reach that population again, and it will be a struggle the entire way.”

PJ sighed. All three of the southern Realms had been pouring all of their time and resources into providing enough food for everyone. Sure, the Third Realm had had a food store at the beginning of the war, but they’d completely used it up in the war and the year after.

The Second and Fourth Realms were probably even worse off—PJ wouldn’t know, he wasn’t in the room when the reports on the various Realms were given. The kingdom, he knew, was suffering. The Fourth Realm had been the largest agricultural producer before the war. And while the human soldiers in Suzerain’s army hadn’t destroyed farms or towns, demons had.

It was going to be a long fight for recovery.

PJ sighed. “I just realized how much of the rest of my life I’m going to be spending in fields and farms.”

Gar chuckled. “Hope you like wheat.”


	16. Dread Knowledge

“It’s inevitable, then.” MatPat’s sigh echoed the expressions of all the other nobles. “We’re headed for a war we can’t prevent, and one we can’t win.”

Pat made a face. The nobles—including Jordan and Dan, now sitting next to Jess and Amanda around the table, and Amy—had just spent a good six hours pouring over all of the options for what was sure to come their way.

“Mark will hold out as long as he can.” Amy said, her voice surprisingly steady considering they’d been discussing the fall of her kingdom. “He already has the egos on his side. Hopefully Adroy will give up.”

“They won’t.” Bluescale leaned forward in her chair.

“I mean no offense, Keeper, but how can you be sure of that?” Amy asked.

The use of Bluescale’s shortened title made most of the Protectors shift in place, Pat included. Nobody used that. Not because it was forbidden or anything, but because most people forgot or weren’t fond of titles in the first place (namely the Protectors).

Bluescale took a deep breath, then looked to the head of the table, where Wade and Molly had been whispering to each other. (Presumably everyone thought it was about something important to the topic at hand, but Pat, standing behind Wade’s chair, had been hearing more discussion about a break for food than anything else.) “How much is known of dragons among the nobility?”

“You’ve been rather withdrawn for the past few generations.” Wade switched his whispered discussion of chicken with Molly to the topic at hand mid-sentence, getting a smirk from Pat. “Not much reached us.”

Behind Amy, Ethan shook his head.

“Allow me to enlighten you, then.”

Wade dipped his head, and Bluescale stood. “Dragons, as a species, are one of the two most powerful beings to exist in this world. The only ones to match them are the most powerful demons. Or perhaps the most powerful dragons match the power of demons.”

More than a few nobles glanced at Gar. Not unfriendly looks, mind you, just ones that suggested they’d never really realized just how much power Gar had had at his disposal as a demon prince. The ones who didn’t glance—well, they’d seen that power first hand.

“Dragons live for quite a long time, but we don’t last nearly as long as demons do. A large part of that is due to demons spending most of their life in a different dimension, if you will, where time travels at a different speed. Hundreds of years here are mere decades there.”

Gar shifted uneasily at the mention of the demon world. How much time had he spent there? Was it an awful place?

“Most dragons have chosen a land, a magic, to settle down in by the time they’re 300 or so.” Bluescale glanced around the table, her gaze finally landing on Ethan. “One in every kingdom is required to completely bind themselves to the magic there. It stabilizes and revitalizes the magic. Without them, the full weight of maintaining the magic falls on the royalty and nobility. Those who had their protection spells fall during the Suzerain War experienced just a fragment of that, and those who felt the pain of attacks a different fragment entirely.”

Bluescale sighed. “All dragons have to at least partially bind themselves to the magic of a kingdom. Otherwise our own magic becomes unpredictable and wild.” She took a deep breath. “This includes our ability to foresee.”

“Foresee?” MatPat asked.

“We get visions of the future.” This time, Ethan spoke. “They’re disjointed and hard to put together, but they’re definitely a thing.”

Bluescale nodded. “We’re guaranteed to see one when we give a Protector their medallion, and the events in it always come true in the span of their lifetime.” She glanced around the room. “You lot concern me. You really do.”

“Thanks, Bluescale.” Pat said dryly. “We try hard.”

“In any case,” Bluescale shook her head, “that’s what happened to the dragon supposedly working with Adroy right now.” She made a face. “Keepers of the Magic make a point of knowing who their nearby fellow Keepers are, and they’re not one.”

“Keepers of the Magic?” Cry asked.

“That would be my title, Lord Cryaotic.” Bluescale glanced over at the masked lord. “I am the Keeper of the Magic for the Realms, and have been for the past thousand years. That dragon I mentioned earlier who has to be completely bound to the land to keep bad things from happening to you guys?” She gestured to herself.

“In any case,” Bluescale put both hands on the table, “neither of the two Keepers in this room recognize that dragon. We’re fairly sure they’re the one who ran off far north a couple hundred years ago, which means they were never bound to any magic. From the description of their magic, they’ve completely lost control and it’s quite possibly too damaged to fix.”

“Um,” Dil interrupted, “two Keepers?”

Ethan waved. “Hi. Got to leave the Land of the Squirrels because of Rose.”

“Oh, okay.” Dil nodded, understanding crossing his face.

“Earlier I mentioned that we have visions of the future when we give medallions to their Protectors.” Bluescale tilted her head and stood fully. “Three of the Protectors in this room gave the exact same vision, and it’s been seen by dragons in Bossatron and by Ethan. It’s not unlikely that our rogue dragon could have seen it as well.”

“Do Protectors commonly give the same vision?” MatPat asked.

“No.” Bluescale shook her head. “Sometimes they’ll be similar, but never before have they been the same.” She made a face. “The last time anyone had the same vision on this scale was the prophecies for the war you guys just came out of. And that was Snow’s medallion.”

“Why is it important that it happens when you give the medallions?” Amanda asked.

“Because it means that vision will be fulfilled, or at least most likely fulfilled, before that Protector is dead for good.” Bluescale frowned. “And in this case, it involved a demon wolf standing over a bleeding Lord of the Seventh Realm,” here Bluescale looked not at JP, but at Wade, “six Protectors, a new moon, and a dragon—a dragon Ethan has identified as the one who attacked Iplier.”

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Molly said, “who are the three Protectors who sparked this?”

“Felix, PJ, and Patrck.” Bluescale shook her head. “Because, you know, they didn’t cause me enough grief growing up.”

Chuckles tore from those three Protectors, and Pat smirked. Those had been great ideas. 

“I swear you three alone aged me a full century.” Bluescale shot a glare at Pat, who grinned.

“You were the one who let Snow stick around and talk to us.” Pat shrugged. “What did you expect?”

Gar sighed. 

“In any case,” Bluescale looked around the table once more, “considering both the trouble seen with their medallions and other visions multiple of us have had recently, it’s quite possible we’re dealing with someone who believes the magic is being forced to serve the royal families, or that they’re hurting it, and who wants to fix that in the only way possible.”

“Bluescale’s right.” Ethan shook his head. “They’re not going to stop until every royal they can find is dead.”

\-----

“What are we supposed to do?” Wade was the one to ask the question they’d all had on their minds.

Pat hesitated, looking across the room to Gar, who had removed his mask. 

There were five of them in Wade and Molly’s living room. Just the royals, the Royal Protectors, and Bluescale. They were, after all, the ones most concerned with what Ethan had said.

“It’s a matter of time before Adroy starts causing trouble here.” Bluescale said quietly. “These kinds of wars are long, brutal things. The last time I saw one, it was the rise of the Empire.”

Darkness flashed across Gar’s face.

“The Realms fell back then. The only reason they survived was because the prince’s child survived and allowed for the line to continue, and ultimately for the magic to be repaired.” She shook her head. “And we don’t even know how that happened. There should have been no reason for the Soulstealer to miss a child, and we know he has no trouble killing children.”

Everyone looked at Gar.

Gar shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t remember anything until I was at the heart of the magic.”

“The memories will still be there.” Bluescale said simply.

Gar made a face. “It’s been almost 1000 years. You sure about that?”

Bluescale dipped her head. 

Gar let out a long breath and flopped back against the couch. “Is this information we need?”

“It’ll be helpful.” Pat said.

Gar scowled at him. “I wasn’t asking you.”

Molly sighed, then nodded. “If it worked before, it might work again. I don’t know how you were planning on getting memories from that day, though.”

Gar groaned and flopped his head back. “Oh, I know. I guess I’m sending for PJ, then, right now, since the info’s that important.” He stood, slipping his mask back on his face. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go prepare to get my memories searched.”


	17. Pulls of the Past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter gets pretty dark, but it also delves into some of Gar's 1000 year history. A lot of it will sound familiar if you've read Prophecies and War, but there is definitely new information.

Gar glanced around his rooms once more, making sure they were clean enough for company. It was silly, he knew that. PJ was a friend.

Though he didn’t know the conversation Wade and Molly and Pat and Gar and Bluescale had had for hours after the meeting ended. He didn’t know that meeting had come to no decisions whatsoever.

Gar shoved the thought aside, instead cracking his door open before turning his attention to Dante. Dante seemed to enjoy it, but he also seemed like he just wanted to sleep for a long time.

Gar was sure the others had noticed, but none of them had said anything to him about it. They probably didn’t want to bring up Dante’s age out of worry it would upset him. But he knew what was coming. Just not when.

Gar scratched Dante absently. “We’ve gone through a lot, you and I.” He smiled as Dante gave him a reassuring lick. “A war, and all of that. And you stayed with Cry for a lot of that, but you always run to me when you see me.” He buried his hand in Dante’s fur, some part of him noting how gray it had gone. “I’m glad for that.”

Soft footsteps sounded in the hallway, and Gar glanced up just in time for a knock to sound on the doorframe.

“Come in.” He gave Dante another scratch, then stood to welcome PJ in.

PJ slipped in, closing the door behind him. “You wanted to see me?”

Gar nodded. “I need you to do what you were offering earlier.”

PJ raised an eyebrow. “I would have imagined you would think on that for a while longer, since we don’t leave for another fortnight and a half.”

Gar sighed. “It’s complicated.”

“I’m sure.” PJ stepped into the room, bending down to give Dante a friendly scratch. “Have you ever done this before?”

Gar shook his head. “I’ve tried to leave forgotten things in the past. Figured there was a reason I forgot them.”

“Yes, well, in this case, I suspect it was demon magic blocking those memories.”

Gar blinked. “What makes you say that?”

“Well,” PJ’s magic was definitely already starting to tug on Gar’s, and it was a bit of a strange feeling, but Gar let it happen. “You don’t have any problems remembering things from when you were in control of yourself. Besides, I can’t see you having been of much use if your humanity was constantly getting in the way of you doing things.”

Gar tilted his head, uneasy at the turn this conversation had taken. “Fair.” This was going to be a dreadfully uncomfortable experience, wasn’t it?

“This is going to be significantly easier if we sit.” PJ said.

Gar nodded quietly, sitting on one end of the couch.

PJ sat on the other, turning to face him. “Alright. Uh, does your mask help protect from outside magic like Cry’s?”

Gar nodded. “They’re pretty much identical in function.”

“Then you’ll need to take it off.”

Gar complied. It wasn’t like PJ hadn’t seen his face before, after all.

PJ placed his hands on the space between them, palms up. “When you’re ready. I will have to enter your mind.”

“I expected as much.” Gar placed his hands on PJ’s. “The sooner it’s over the better.” He paused. He didn’t know what hidden memories would be there, but chances were some of them were going to be very, very dark. “PJ-”   


“I don’t think I’ll be the one experiencing the memories.” PJ said. “I didn’t when I did this to Dan.”

“You did this to Dan?” Gar blinked.

“Well, yes. We managed to restore at least some of the memories he lost when the Lifeless attacked him.” PJ frowned. “Not all of them, though.”

At least PJ had done this before, then. Not on such a large scale, to be fair, but it was something.

“When you’re ready.” PJ said.

Gar nodded slowly, then took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “Ready.”

Instantly, he was filled with the oddest feeling. If he had to pick a specific word to describe it, it would be nostalgia. A very, very intense one, pulling him deep into himself and back through time. Flashes of images and emotions started running past too, just bits of memories. 

Talking with PJ the night before. 

Everyone arriving for the meetings. 

The dragon at Iplier. 

Being officially bound as Molly’s Protector. 

Snow’s funeral. 

Waking up at the Stronghold. 

Repairing the magic. 

Being forced to serve Baroness Lilith, knowing she was slowly dying to the Lifeless and the demon possessing her. 

Blood and bodies.

Patrck’s side crunching under his sword.

The Soulstealer’s sword running through his body.

The demon camp. 

Dueling Tom.

Lots of different climates and people, and a whole mix of feelings Gar didn’t even want to touch.

A bloody throne.

So many bodies.

Blood coating his skin.

More bodies.

More blood.

Breaking the magic.

Snow’s frantic cries.

The Soulstealer’s sword running through his body.

Three dying faces of men wearing his sigil.

A woman’s face, and a very specific rush of emotions.

A wedding.

Training.

“This is as far back as anything goes.” PJ’s voice was strained. “We pretty much skipped over everything. Where do you want to start?”

His first memories were of training? How very Gar.

“When I became a demon.” He didn’t want to investigate those early memories with PJ in his mind.

This time, as they moved along the strings of Gar’s memories, he could tell PJ was there. PJ moved fast still, not giving Gar much time to think on it, but that was alright.

PJ seemed to nod, and they slid to a stop. “It’s here. I imagine whatever you’re looking for is relatively close in time to this. If you want, I can join you in experiencing the memory, but I’m certainly not required to.”

Gar took a breath. “I know I’m not ready to share this.”

“Alright.” PJ’s voice cracked from effort. “I’ll set it up so you go back to the present when you’re done, and then I’m going to get out and spend some time on the floor reevaluating the scope of time.” A pause. “Gar? It’s going to be rough. It’s going to be very rough.”

Gar nodded, not trusting himself to speak, and PJ’s presence slipped away.

Gar reached out and touched the string in front of him.

_ “Hey, come on,” Snow’s voice pleaded. “Don’t let this happen.” _

_ His magic. His magic was being changed, royal blue forced aside for reddish-purple, demon magic even forcing itself into his life force. _

_ But his Protector binding with Snow--that was screaming. It was screaming so loudly Gar couldn’t help but give it attention.  _

_ Slight pressure on his head, as if someone was pulling a helmet off. Snow, it had to be Snow. _

_ Gar forced his eyes open, an action that took far too much effort, and blinked the world into focus. At least, he tried. It kept swimming and fading. _

_ Snow, though, he was there, arms cradling Gar. His helmet was in the way, Gar couldn’t see his face, couldn’t remember what Snow even looked like, but he was there. _

_ Gar blinked again, even as Snow’s life force started to fray. “You’re dying.” He lifted his hand, trying to brush off the shadows attacking the binding, attacking Snow’s life force, but his own arm wouldn’t listen and dropped the second he made contact.  _

_ “Well, you’re becoming a demon.” Snow grabbed Gar’s hand, and strength surged into Gar, strength to fight the demon magic. “I imagine that’ll kill me anyway.” _

_ Gar frowned. “No. The shadows are killing you. Our bond is fine.” He had to do something--someone had to survive. He didn’t want to leave his child without a father, but if he could keep Snow alive... he would listen and leave Gar, be an uncle to the kid or something. _

_ He pulled his hand from Snow’s and dropped it to the ground, fingers automatically curling around the welcoming warmth of Tapestry. Tapestry, with the bit of dragon magic woven into it. It took much more effort than he wanted to pull it up and press the hilt into Snow’s hand and keep it there, using up nearly all the energy Snow had given him.  _

_ “You’ll...” It was taking too much energy to speak. “You need to live.” Snow needed to be there when Gar couldn’t.  _

_ “But--” Snow protested, clearly realizing Gar would be using the last of his strength on this.  _

_ Gar sent soothing across their binding. He needed Snow to understand what he wanted.  _

_ Snow dipped his head. “Alright. I trust you, my prince.” _

_ Snow’s barriers dropped, and Gar stirred his magic. Snow’s life force was being torn apart by shadows. All Gar had to do was repair them before the shadows finished. _

_ Snow’s agony was clear as Gar worked, even as the physical world faded from his view and his body seemed to melt away.  _

_ Then Snow was torn from his grasp. Even in his disconnected state, Gar could hear Snow’s screams reverberating through him, he could see Snow’s life being torn apart.  _

_ No. No, Snow had a job to do. _

_ Gar dug into his magic, yanking a chunk of it out of himself--and demon magic came too but he couldn’t do anything about it--and slammed it into Snow’s life force. Instantly, it spread, digging into everything, keeping it together, feeding off the demon magic. _

_ Incredible amounts of power flooded his system, and Gar stood, Tapestry in hand. His magic would need time to work uninterrupted on Snow, who had now fallen still, and he would do whatever it took to make sure that happened. _

_ So he turned Tapestry over, looking at it, feeling the dragon magic reverberating once again. A dragon was nearby, then. “Why did you do this when you could have just killed me?” _

_ He didn’t actually pay attention to the Soulstealer’s answer, instead focusing all of his attention on Tapestry. If he could get a dragon here, get one of the Guardians, they could take Snow, they could heal him, they could help him protect Gar’s child. _

_ Then the pain of a sword once again, and agony and confusion, and being yanked by demon magic. Then he was in the form he’d now gotten used to, his demon form, and the power running through him seemed truly limitless.  _

_ Tapestry tugged, but no longer reverberated of dragon. And yet, Snow’s still form was still on the ground. He didn’t seem to be breathing--in fact, he was sporting a gaping hole in his armor and chest--but their binding was still there, still functioning just fine. What was going on? _

_ “Come.” The Soulstealer grinned. “We have matters to attend to.” _

_ That first time of teleporting was disorienting, to say the least, and it took Gar several seconds to realize they’d arrived at the palace, at his home--where his wife and child lived, and that he’d reverted to his human form.  _

_ Snow’s body had also been teleported, for whatever reason, but his life force was stirring. Snow would be able to help, right? _

_ “The royal family.” The Soulstealer sneered the words. Then he looked at Gar. “Kill them.” _

_ What? No! _

_ But Gar’s limbs were moving of their own accord, starting into the hall and running to the living quarters, the Soulstealer following leisurely behind. _

_ Arms were thrown around his shoulders, and a familiar face smiled at him. He didn’t know her name, but this was his wife. She exclaimed a name he’d long stopped associating with himself and only now remembered, and then froze when he didn’t bend to give her a kiss like he’d done the last time he’d seen her. _

_ Demon magic was trying to tug his arms into pulling out his sword. _

_ No. _

_ He wasn’t going to kill her. He wasn’t. _

_ A small voice made a sound, and a small child stepped into view, just around the age where she would stop being a toddler and start being a child.  _

_ “Oh! Of course you want to meet her!” His wife sounded pleased at that. “Come on, I’ll-” _

_ The Soulstealer couldn’t know about his daughter. No, he couldn’t let her be killed. _

_ Gar’s gaze flicked to the maid following the child, even as the pressure from the demon magic grew stronger and stronger. He wouldn’t be able to hold out for much longer. _

_ There was his old name again, his wife looking at him confusedly. _

_ Gar stepped forward and scooped up his daughter, some part of him noting she’d inherited his curly hair, then shoved her into the arms of the maid. “Run. Snow is waiting outside for you.” He didn’t know how he knew that, but he did. _

_ “What?!” _

_ Gar shoved them down the hall, towards the hidden doors the staff used. “Go!” _

_ Control of his own limbs was pushed aside. _

Gar hit his floor with a thud, jerking him out of the memory. Tears streamed down his face as PJ’s hand touched his shoulder reassuringly.

All he could do was cover his face and sob.


	18. Quiet Reassurances

Jason quietly paced the living room of the Sixth Realm rooms, waiting for MatPat to finish updating Steph on all the things that had happened so far. He’d tried the night before, but offered no explanation as to why he hadn’t been able to get through.

Molly and Wade had yet to announce anything at all about an heir to the kingdom, but there had to be one soon. Olivia was four, and Protectors could only be up to five years older than their nobles. And, seeing as she had a black medallion... well, both he and MatPat knew what that meant.

Raw excitement surged across the protector binding, and Jason stopped in his pacing to stare at the door to MatPat’s room. Did that mean...?

Raw guilt followed, and Jason smiled despite himself. He knew exactly what that particular combination of emotions meant. It had happened before: when MatPat’s daughter had been born during the war, while MatPat and Jason had been gone from Hextal for the fighting—and thus not present. (MatPat had been so distracted during the entire month they spent travelling to see her, and then they’d had to leave immediately and return to the fighting. Jason had never seen MatPat so sad and so protective before.)

Jason settled himself into a chair, reaching for the book he’d been reading in his spare time. MatPat was going to be a while.

Despite having his book in his hands, Jason couldn't focus on reading. His mind kept turning Olivia’s predicament over and over. Trouble was coming, sooner or later. It was quite possible Olivia would never get to remember what it was like to be at peace, to not be fighting for her life and for the life of the future Heir of the Realms on a near-constant basis.

And what if Olivia decided she didn't want to be a Protector? Sure, most experienced that phase of discouragement and uneasiness, but everyone sorted it out sooner or later. Others... well... what if Olivia chose to remove her medallion? Jason wouldn't be there to help her.

She didn't deserve that.

She deserved so much better than the life of a Royal Protector. Sure, when she was old enough, Pat and Gar would be there for guidance and help, and while Jason was sure they'd treat her like their own (any of the Protectors would—Olivia was going to have seven dads and four moms), they could only do so much.

Olivia would be 21 by the time she was bound, anyway. She’d have gone through all of her teenagehood by then, and that was the time everyone had trouble. Granted, normal people also had a lot of trouble in their teenagehood, but they couldn’t die by taking off a piece of jewelry.

A light knock broke Jason from his growing despair, and he noted MatPat was still in his room. That meant-

Another knock, this one decidedly coming from the hall door.

Jason got up and answered the door, only to find Gar and Bluescale standing there.

“Matthew’s in his room.” He stepped aside.

“We came to talk to you.” Bluescale stepped inside.

Jason blinked, but dipped his head. “How can I help?”

Bluescale took a seat. “It’s about your daughter.”

Jason’s heart jumped to his throat. “Is she okay?”

“A little homesick, but fine,” Bluescale assured.

“Then-”

“Calm down,” Gar said simply.

Jason took a deep breath and nodded. They’d said she was fine, he didn’t need to worry, he needed to stop worrying so much.

“You know how Pat, as King’s Protector, can sense all the current Protectors?” Gar said. “Well. Bluescale just spent an hour trying to teach me how to do that, and we learned I can sense the trainees instead.”

Jason blinked. “Really?”

Gar nodded.

“Not even the Guardians can sense the trainees,” Bluescale explained. “For you, though, it means anytime you’re concerned about Olivia, you can ask Gar.”

Gar nodded again.

Jason paused. It was easier for him and the other Protectors to use communication spells with Pat than it was for anyone else, even their own nobles.

“It’s very possible Olivia may be able to use the pools to speak with Gar before her magic is strong enough to use them to talk with you.” Bluescale dipped her head. “Of course, once she can do that, we’ll have her speak with you regularly, but until then...”

Jason turned to Gar. “Are- are you okay with that?”

“Of course.” Gar sounded like he was smiling, but his mask made it impossible to know for sure. “I know it’s not ideal for you, not by a long shot, but hopefully it helps.”

A slow smile spread across Jason’s face. “It’s so much more than I ever could have hoped for.” No, he wasn’t going to get to talk to Olivia himself for a while, but knowing Gar would be there when he couldn’t helped a lot.

“I’ll let Grayscale know, then.” Bluescale smiled. “He can start her on the pools.” Her eyes twinkled. “Besides, you know what it feels like when someone is watching you through the pools. You can talk to her that way, even if she can’t talk back yet.”

Jason let out a long breath, tears pricking at his eyes. This was going to be hard, incredibly hard, but he wasn’t losing her completely.

“Why... why are you telling me these things?” Jason managed. “I mean, I appreciate it, but why?”

“I know what it feels like to not be able to raise your own child,” Gar said softly. “I don’t want anyone else to go through that. There’s only so much any of us can do about this situation, but I’m going to do as much as I can.”

“Thank you.”

Then something else Gar said sank in fully. Gar had a child? Or was he referring to the unknown Heir that had allowed the royal line to continue through the Empire’s reign?

It was probably better not to ask.

Bluescale glanced at Gar, then stood. “I think we should get ready for the day’s meetings now.”

Jason nodded. “Of course.”

“I’ll keep you posted on Olivia.” Gar promised. “It’ll be a bit, but you’ll know as soon as something happens.”

Jason smiled faintly. “Okay.”

Bluescale and Gar excused themselves, and Jason closed the door behind them. He still had his worries, and he probably always would, but knowing the Guardians were actively working to keep him a part of Olivia’s life—which was more than what happened to most parents of Protectors—was helping.

The door to MatPat’s room opened, and he stepped out with a grin.

Jason grinned back. “What name did you settle on?”

“We haven’t decided yet, but Steph was too tired to talk for long.”

“I can give you ideas.”

MatPat shook his head. “Is there any possible way I can stop you?”


	19. Unforgettable

PJ wasn’t quite sure what memories Gar had found that had upset him so much, and he wasn’t going to ask—it wasn’t his place, after all—but he was a little worried at how distracted Gar seemed through most of the morning meetings. Especially after MatPat announced the birth of his newest child. The Sixth Realm, at least, was unlikely to run out of nobles.

Not that he got much of a chance to pay attention to Gar himself, since he had his own responsibilities.

During the break for food, PJ was gestured over by Amanda. Standing next to the Lady of the Fourth Realm was someone PJ had never met before, though judging how familiarly she stood next to Amanda and how she had Amanda’s insignia on her uniform, he could guess.

“Hello,” the other person said, holding out a hand, “I’m Carissa Statten, Lady Faye’s personal guard.”

PJ shook her hand. “PJ Liguori, Protector to Howell over there.” PJ nodded at Dan, chatting with JP.

“Seems we’re going to be working together a lot, then.” Carissa smiled.

“Seems so.”

Carissa paused as Amanda walked over to Dan, and both guards watched them for a minute. Dan and Amanda were friends, that was for sure, but it was clear to anyone that they were doing this from a sense of duty and nothing else.

“What  _ is _ Howell’s title right now?” Carissa turned back to PJ. “I’m a bit confused at it all.”

“I don’t even know.” PJ shook his head. “I would imagine Lord, still, though not of a specific Realm.”

“Just Lord Daniel Howell of the Realms?”

PJ nodded. “At the moment, anyway.”

Carissa nodded. “Right. Eventually he’ll be of the Fourth Realm.”

PJ nodded, and Carissa gave him an even look. “What about you? Do you have any sort of ‘of the’ in your title?”

“Whatever Lord Howell has, I have.” PJ dipped his head. “That’s the custom among Protectors.”

She put a hand on her hip. “Since we’re going to be working together, I should probably get to know more about Protectors, huh.” She gave an apologetic smile. “This is my first year doing this, so I don’t know much of anything beyond your typical rumors—and I’m fairly sure the stories about some of you being brought back from the dead are just that.” She glanced around the room. “You all appear to be in perfectly living condition.”

“Oh, no, I haven’t died.” PJ shook his head, even as Felix—standing a bit behind Carissa—glanced over his shoulder and quirked up an eyebrow. “That’s quite the rumor.”

“I know, right?” She shook her head. She paused, apparently not noticing as Felix walked over to them. “Lord Howlter seems unsure of himself.”

“It’s his first year too.” Felix said.

Carissa’s startled jerk was pretty noticeable, and she whirled. “Who-“

“Protecter Kjellberg.” Felix gave a tiny bow. “Couldn’t help but overhear your conversation there.”

“That’s called eavesdropping.” Carissa put her hand back on her hip. “It was a private conversation.”

PJ rolled his eyes. Oh, she was one of those people. This was going to be a pain.

“There’s very little privacy between Protectors, though I imagine you wouldn’t know that.”

Carissa looked to PJ, clearly asking for help, and PJ shrugged. “We have to be open about things. It’s what’s kept our nobles alive during the war.”

“I thought you hid Lord Lester’s existence? You let the world believe he was dead—did they all know about that?”

“I did.” Felix shrugged. “At least, you know, once someone actually talked to me.”

PJ glanced at him, pushing down the temptation to remind Felix he’d been dead at the time. “The Protectors didn’t do much talking during the war. We were all busy doing our job.”

“Why didn’t you just send messages with the messengers the nobles sent?” Carissa blinked.

PJ and Felix exchanged a long look. Did most of the population not know about communication spells?

“It was more of we were too busy to do so—we were either fighting or sleeping.” Felix said. “Or doing jobs for our nobles.” Or being dead, though that went unsaid.

“I once did both at the same time—fighting and sleeping, I mean.” PJ shook his head at the memory. “I’m very surprised I didn’t die.”

“Both?” Carissa gasped.

“Well, I alternated between them very quickly. It wasn’t exactly my idea.” He sighed. “Three day battles wear you out really quickly.”

“I never had that problem.” Felix grinned. “I guess that says which one of us is the better fighter.”

“Oh, sure.” PJ rolled his eyes. “That’s definitely what that was.”

Felix laughed. “Exactly. Nothing else happened.”

PJ shook his head. “I wonder what would happen if you and I were to spar and figure that out.”

“You’d go down.” Felix said confidently. “You’ve lost fights before.”

“Oh, and you haven’t?” PJ narrowed his eyes at Felix. “I’m sure Patrck could think of a few times.”

Felix shifted slightly. “Everyone loses to him. The guy’s a beast.”

“Clearly you’ve never sparred with Cap.”

They both paused and looked across the room to Gar, lingering near Molly. Pat leaned over to Gar and said something, and while they couldn’t see Gar smile, his laugh was audible even so far away.

“Is the Captain really that good that he can outdo Protector Static?” Carissa asked hesitantly.

Both PJ and Felix turned back to her with a nod.

“He’s by far the best fighter of any of us.” PJ said. 

“How can a regular man outfight a Protector?”

“Well, he is a Protector.” Felix shrugged. “He has the same training as any of us. Plus he comes up with his own moves.”

“We all do.” PJ shook his head. “At least, we all should.”

“His are better, okay?”

“Wait, why is he so much better than the rest of you? Didn’t you all get the same basic training?” Carissa frowned.

“Oh, yes, but he got a lot more.”

“Most of us were bound to our nobles when they turned sixteen. Cap wasn’t bound to her majesty until earlier last year.”

Carissa frowned again. “Right. Her first Protector was that Demon Prince fellow. He got what he deserved, dying at the end of all that, after trying to kill her.”

Gar seemed to look over at those words, and PJ resisted the temptation to sigh. She was not going to be fun to be spending large amounts of time near. But before he could say anything, Pat’s voice interrupted.

“I don’t think you quite understand how bindings work.” Pat crossed his arms as he walked up.

“Protector Static! I-” Carissa hesitated.

“Gar was the best man I ever met. He fought unrelentingly for the Realms, for her majesty, even when it caused him actual pain. Even when it cost him his life.” Pat scowled at her. “You don’t control bindings. Bindings control you. And he’s the only one who’s been strong enough to fight them.” He took a sharp breath. “Because if you’ll realize, he  _ didn’t _ kill her majesty, despite the absolute agony that would have put him in. And then he willingly gave his life for the Realms.”

“I didn’t realize-”

“You didn’t think.” Pat shook his head and dropped his arms to his side. “We wouldn’t hail him as a hero for no reason.” 

With that, he turned and walked away.

Carissa turned to PJ, eyes wide. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know-” She hesitated again. “How badly did I mess up?”

“Pretty badly.” PJ shook his head. “They were best friends, you know. Even when the rest of us doubted Gar, Pat believed in him.”

“He tried to save Gar, did you know that?” Felix shook his head. “It’s how he lost his arm.”

“I didn’t know that.” Carissa blanched.

“I didn’t either, until after. Too much was happening at the time for me to see it, but the Soulstealer tried to cut Gar down. Pat blocked it, and the force of the blow shattered his arm.” PJ shrugged.

Carissa winced. “That... he sacrificed his arm and the Demon Prince died anyway.”

“Don’t call him that. Not unless you’re talking about something where he wasn’t in control, where he couldn’t fight the bindings, where he wasn’t Gar.” Felix crossed his arms. “He was so much more than a demon. He was our friend.”

Carissa swallowed. “Alright.”

Felix nodded. “Good.”

The slightest tug ran across PJ’s binding with Dan, and he glanced over to see Dan give a soft gesture.

He quietly excused himself and walked over.

“Thought I’d rescue you from that dreadful conversation.” Dan murmured.

“You could hear it?”

“We all tend to listen when Gar is mentioned.” Amanda shrugged slightly. “Anyway, I had a question for you.”

“Yes, milady?”

“I know Luna will get a Protector when she’s sixteen,” Amanda paused and PJ nodded, “but I don’t know anything other than that.”

“When the time comes, you’ll learn more, but you won’t have to arrange anything.” PJ clasped his hands behind his back. “That job will fall to me.”

Amanda nodded a couple times, unsure at first and finally confidently. “Alright.” She hesitated. “Have you, by chance, met her future Protector?”

PJ shook his head. “Luna’s well over fourteen years younger than I am, so I never had the chance.” He nodded at Gar. “He’s your best chance for learning things, but he won’t tell you much. It’s not allowed.”

Amanda took a deep breath. “Okay. Thanks for answering that.”

“Of course.” PJ turned to leave, but Dan made that soft sound that meant ‘don’t’ and PJ paused and really looked at the two nobles.

They were standing next to each other, but as he’d noted earlier, they clearly weren’t interested in each other.

They had both, after all, outlived their husbands. Both taken by the war: Matthias, during it; Phil, years after, from that stupid arrow wound.

That in mind, and Dan’s order to stay, PJ merely made himself comfortable and listened in as Amanda turned to Dan.

“I should probably warn you I haven’t told Luna about this yet.”

Dan winced. “We need to get that taken care of long before we head to Quartal. That’s not a good surprise.”

“Do you want to manage it tonight?”

Dan sighed. “I suppose.” He paused, then shifted his weight to better meet Amanda’s eyes. “I haven’t heard about her since the war ended, really. What’s she like now?”

“She’s looking forward to being twelve.” Amanda shrugged. “She wants to do a lot of things and I want to support her, but I kind of feel like that’s too young to be learning how to fight.”

“If you don’t teach her, her Protector will.” Dan said quietly.

“Really?” Amanda looked at PJ.

PJ nodded. “It’s a lot easier to defend someone who can at least help.” He hesitated. “Plus, we do sometimes die.”

Amanda made a face. “That’s fair.”

“If you want, I can start teaching her.” PJ offered. “Make sure she starts at a good level.”

Amanda’s shoulders relaxed. “I would appreciate it.”

“What kind of magic does Luna have?” Dan asked. “I never heard.”

Amanda’s shoulders tightened all over again, and she closed her eyes. Then she sighed. “Plant magic.”

Dan straightened, his expression unreadable.

“I’m sorry-”

“No, don’t be.” Dan shook his head, looking away and blinking rapidly. The binding between him and PJ ached with an indescribable longing for their best friend. “It’s not your fault. It’s not hers, either.” He took a deep breath, swallowing. “How well does she know how to use it?”

“Not very well. We were going to see if Phil could teach her, but...” Amanda made a face.

“He wouldn’t have been able to.” Dan swallowed again. “I picked up some information, being married to Phil as long as I was. I can try to help her after we get settled.”

Amanda sighed. “You don’t have to.”

“No, I think I do.” Dan took a deep breath. “I’m going to be her step-father, it’s the least I can do.” His voice wavered slightly. “Phil would have wanted me to, anyway.”

At the words, a familiar tug tug tug pulled on the binding between Dan and PJ, ever so softly, like Phil could hear them and wanted to say something.

PJ forced himself to ignore it.

Phil was dead, nothing could change that. The bindings still between them would only drag him and Dan closer to death.

And the Realms needed them. It didn’t matter how much PJ wanted to reach, to feel Phil’s presence once again.

That time of his life was over. This was the life he had now.


	20. For the Good of the Realms

As the meetings resumed, and Felix once again took his customary seat at the edge of the room, he could feel Cry’s tension radiating across their binding.

He took a deep breath and sent ease and calm back across. Not to say he wasn’t stressed too, for the exact same reason, but Cry needed him to be calm. So he would be calm.

Slowly, the tension eased. It didn’t go away entirely, but it wasn’t quite so distracting anymore.

Pat’s magic brushed up against Felix, and he glanced over to see the King’s Protector raising an inquiring eyebrow at him. Felix shrugged, glancing at Cry. Was he allowed to talk about it? Cry hadn’t said anything about it yet, but it was going to be distracting them both the entire meeting.

Pat raised his other eyebrow.

Felix’s responding gesture was fast, almost impossible to catch if you hadn’t been watching him, but it got the message across. Understanding flicked across Pat’s face, and he took a quick step to Wade’s chair and leaned down to whisper something in his ear.

That was fair. Wade should know.

Wade didn’t say anything, merely sent a thoughtful glance in Cry’s direction (which Cry definitely noticed, as his fingers curled tightly into his pants leg under the table) and nodded. Then he murmured something back to Pat.

Pat stepped back from Wade’s chair, gesturing for Felix to follow him.

Felix sent one last burst of calming across his binding with Cry before complying. He and Pat slipped out the discreet side door that led to a hall Felix had never been in before. It was decently large, and uncomfortably warm. The faint smell of delicious food hung in the air. This must be one of the many passages that allowed staff to move food from the kitchens to various parts of the palace.

“We’ll be fast,” Pat said as he started walking down the hall, “but we don’t want to risk anyone overhearing us.”

Felix dipped his head and followed. “What’re we talking about?”

“How long has Cry known? I assume you found out at the same time.” Pat glanced over his shoulder before they emerged into the palace kitchens, then started dodging between staff. They all seemed to know how the other moved, and Pat moved much more fluidly between them than Felix did.

That wasn’t too surprising, though. Pat lived here; of course he would be familiar with the way the staff worked. Felix didn’t, so he wouldn’t be. If they were in Quintal, Pat would be having as much trouble as Felix was.

“Just as the break started.” Felix murmured an apology to someone as they rounded a corner and nearly collided. “Marzia had been trying to reach us for a while.”

“Oh, so it can happen at any time.”

“It might have already.” Felix lifted a shoulder. “There were hours and hours before anyone found about Heiress Cat, and almost a full day before someone told MatPat about his own kid. Births are hard and babies take a lot of time.” He made a face. “Not that I’ve personally experienced either.”

Pat let out a long breath. “Alright.” He tilted his head, absently sidestepping someone as they emerged into one of the main hallways. “Who can you contact to find out how it’s going? I think any reassurance you can offer Cry about the wellbeing of his wife and kid will be good for him.”

Felix made a face. “Ken—or, if he’s too busy running the fortress, Mary. Marzia’s definitely going to be busy helping with the labor.”

Pat nodded. “Go ahead and do that.”

“What if they refuse to tell me anything?”

“Why would they do that? You’re practically this kid’s uncle.” Pat smiled. “Besides, it’s kind of your job to be concerned about Cry, and it’ll help him out.”

“Right.” Felix took a deep breath, then reached his magic hundreds of miles to Quintal. Time to find out if the Heir to the Fifth Realm had been born yet.

Fortunately, Ken responded almost instantly. 

“How’s it going?” Felix asked.

“Oh!” Ken sounded like he was smiling. “All three of them are fine.”

“Three?” Felix blinked, and Pat raised an eyebrow.

“Yep. Cry is now the father of twin boys.”

Despite himself, Felix grinned. “I’m sure he’s ready for that.”

“Well, that’s why we’re here to help.” Ken laughed. “They’re all asleep right now, but if he wants to talk with me about them, I’m more than willing to gush about them for him.”

“He’s still in a meeting. I just stepped out to see how things were going.”

Ken made a  _ mmmm _ sound. “Well, you’d better get back to him before he starts freaking out, then. Good luck with the meetings, Felix.”

“Thanks for being there for the boys.”

“Of course.”

Felix ended the communication spell and looked at Pat, who was still standing there with a raised eyebrow.

So?” Pat asked.

“Twins. Boys. Everyone’s fine.”

Pat smiled. “Good to hear.” He tilted his head. “Come on, let’s get back to the room. I’m sure Cry’s noticed your absence by now.”

\-----

When Felix whispered the news to Cry, the Lord of the Fifth Realm gasped softly and actually turned to look slightly at him.

Felix grinned and dipped his head.

Cry returned his attention to the meeting, but it wasn’t hard to tell he was excited—even without their binding. He was just about squirming in his seat.

It didn’t take long for Wade to send a questioning look their way. Cry nodded, and Wade smiled. 

It took even less time for Molly to say something.

“You’re suddenly excited, Cry.” She smiled faintly; Pat had already probably told her the news, then. “Care to share?”

Cry shot up in his seat, pride oozing from their binding.

He was going to be a great dad.

“I’m a dad!” Cry laughed. “And there’s two of them! Two little boys.”

Grins split around the table, and a chorus of congratulations and well-wishes followed.

“One more Realm with Heirs,” MatPat said. “That’s a relief.”

“Look, you,” JP shook his head, “don’t take this as an invitation of some kind. You’re already the dad of literally half of the next generation of nobles.”

“Just under half, actually.” MatPat grinned. “I don’t think we can compete with six whole other Realms, though.”

Dil turned bright red, and several chuckles ran around the table.

“Dan, you talked to Dil and Tabitha about that part of their duties, right?” Cry laughed softly. “Because I’m starting to wonder.”

Dil turned even brighter. “No, he did.”

Dan just took a sip of his water.

More chuckles ran around the table. 

Fortunately, Lady Faye’s new personal guard wasn’t in the room. PJ might not have been able to deal with whatever comments she might have made on that.

“Only two Realms don’t have any Heirs, though,” Cry pointed out. “That makes the competition easier.”

Everyone paused, then looked up the table to Wade and Molly.

“That was very coordinated. More than a little creepy.” Wade took a breath. “That was actually going to be the next topic. Come winter, there will be an Heir to the First Realm, and to the kingdom.”

Sighs of relief came from just about everyone.

“We don’t want that news getting outside of the nobility,” Molly said.

Wade nodded. “We’ve been speaking with Bluescale, and it’s very possible that the rogue dragon could decide to target Molly because of that.”

“What are we going to do?” JP asked. “We can’t fight a dragon.”

Wade and Molly glanced over at Gar, who quietly stepped forward. Just as quietly, he removed his mask.

The large majority of the people around the table didn’t react. 

Dil squeaked and jerked into the back of his seat, sliding it a few inches from the impact.

Jordan looked at Dil, then back to Gar, and frowned. “Am I missing something?”

Gar nodded. “A thousand years ago, on the night I was made into the Demon Prince and the Realms—then known as the Changing Lands—fell to the Empire, everyone thought the royal magic had been wiped out.”

“Oh,” said Jordan. “I see.”

Gar straightened his shoulders. “That wasn’t the case. I survived, and so did my daughter. Though I no longer have royal magic as I stand before you.”

Eyes widened. Jason, in particular, couldn’t seem to look away from Gar.

“I managed to send her away with Snow,” Gar paused and looked at Jordan, “my Protector,” he returned his gaze to the table as a whole, “and he took her to the Guardians. It was the only thing that kept the royal magic alive.”

“We aren’t going to wait until the dragon’s on our doorsteps to follow in Gar’s footsteps.” Wade put a hand on Molly’s. “For the good of the Realms, Gar will take Molly north when we’re done here.”

JP winced. “That’s a two month journey, almost. We won’t be done here for another fortnight.”

“I’ll make sure she’s okay.” Gar promised. “Even if we have to travel slowly.”

“We don’t.” Molly rolled her eyes.

“Look, I don’t want Wade to kill me, thank you very much.” Gar looked at her, wincing slightly.

“Good,” Wade grumbled. “Be scared. If she dies, I’m killing you.”

Gar just raised an eyebrow at Wade.

“You’re going to travel alone?” Dan frowned.

“It’ll be safer for all of us.”

“All of- right, baby.” Dan sighed. “And what if something happens, or you need help? Things happen.”

“Things do happen. And if they do, a Protector is getting a call, and I expect you to drop everything and come help.”

Jordan leaned back in his chair. “I’m confused. I thought Protectors are supposed to stay with their nobles.”

“We are.” Felix was rather surprised to find he was the one speaking. “We exist to protect. But if either of them,” he gestured to Pat and Gar, “call on us for help, we have to help. The kingdom can get more nobles. It can’t get more royal magic.”

“For the good of the Realms, every single one of us will die to protect the Heir,” Amile spoke next. “Even if it means every noble falls.”

Jordan nodded slowly, as though he had finally come to a decision. “How can those of us who aren’t Protectors help?”


	21. Departures

JP was silent as they rode away from Primus, but he kept glancing over his shoulder back at the city.

“They’ll be okay,” Amile assured. “Gar knows what he’s doing.”

“I know, I know, it’s just...” JP sighed, shrugging. “I wish I could do more to help.”

“You’re doing all you can.” They’d been over this several times: once in the meeting room, when Jordan had asked the question, and several times just between the two of them. The best thing the nobles could do was be ready to help if they were called on.

JP made a dissatisfied sound. “It’s not enough.”

“You’ve your own responsibilities, JP.” Amile sighed. “We both do. We have to take care of them. That’s the way duty works.”

“And what if I don’t want to?” JP made a face.

Amile shrugged. “We’re both very aware of your sense of duty, Lord Woodward.”

“Humor me.”

“No.”

JP gave a fake pout. “You never humor me.”

“That’s not my job. My job is to keep you from investigating the other side of a rock and falling down a cliff.” She paused. “Again.”

JP groaned. “Let that die already. Please.”

Amile smiled faintly. “I’ll let that die the day I let you die.”

“Good, at least that’s-” JP cut himself off and narrowed his eyes at Amile.

Amile chuckled.

JP muttered uncomplimentary things just loud enough to tickle the edge of Amile’s hearing, but no true annoyance was coming off their binding. With a small smile she leaned forward slightly and gave her horse a pat on the neck before fully settling herself in for the month of riding to Septimal.

Her horse tossed her mane slightly, and Amile turned her attention to braiding the mane. JP was likely to keep up his annoyed act for a bit longer, so this would free up her concentration for thinking on things like contingency plans should something go south on their journey.

Which, as long as they didn’t start going south, she could probably handle.

\-----

Cry kept touching his mask, fingers tracing the edge of it and running over the smooth surface every time he lifted his hand to his face. Even without their binding vibrating with unease and worry, Felix could tell something about Cry’s mask was bothering him.

“Do we need to take a break so you can take it off?” Felix moved to pull his horse to a stop. It certainly wouldn’t surprise him if that was the case—Cry had spent almost a month with the mask on almost non-stop. Which, to be fair, was normal for the month of the meetings, but he’d usually called for a break to save face (specifically his face) by this point on their way back.

Cry shook his head. “No, no, it’s okay. I’ll do that when we set up camp tonight. It’s just...” He trailed off, running his fingers along the edge of his mask again.

Felix waited for him to get his thoughts together and sent his magic running down the road in both directions, and to both sides in a smaller arc. Behind them, it was clear, seeing as they’d left Primus early enough in the morning that not even farmers had been up, but ahead of them...

“Someone’s coming.” Felix glanced at Cry, focusing in on the sounds approaching. Two or three horses, it was hard to tell for sure... that creaking was probably a wagon or a cart, but it sounded like only one... and anything else was lost in the distance. “A couple of people, it sounds like.”

Cry flicked up his hood and obscured most of his face—and more importantly, his mask—before fixing his gaze on his horse’s neck. It would, of course, be impossible to hide how his horse was no common horse—which it wasn’t: it had been a wedding gift from the Fourth Realm as the last horse Matthias had ever put any sort of attention and magic into.

Felix’s horse was less impressive to look at, but it was bigger. Nobody messed with him while he was riding it, because he was even taller than Wade then.

At least, until Wade got on a horse himself.

The people approaching were revealed to be farmers heading into the city markets for the day, and Felix grimaced. He and Cry had left early so they could avoid being looked at as much as possible. But now, farmers. Where there was one there were a hundred more.

A useful profession, selling your soul to the wheat and corn gods to feed the masses. Likely what Felix would have been doing if he hadn't been selected as a Protector by the magic of the land. 

At least Cry was better company.

When they finally found a spot to camp for the night, Cry pulled his cloak around him before pulling off his mask.

Instantly, his breathing eased, and Felix glanced up from the cooking fire to see Cry not only without his mask but against the trunk of a tree in the most refined position of flop, turning his mask over in his hands.

“Felix?” Cry looked up from his mask, expression flicking between concern and relief. He’d never controlled his expressions very well, since they were almost always hidden by his mask, but he must have really needed to take off his mask with that kind of relief.

“Yes, Cry?”

“I don’t want to scare my sons with my mask. Or my face.” He ran a hand along one of his cheeks, following the network of scars with his fingers.

“It’s not a bad face, you know. A little different from what most have, but not bad.”

Cry rolled his eyes.

Felix continued. “Pillow has already visited them several times. I don’t think your mask will scare them. As for your face... well, I don’t think that’ll scare them either. They might grab at it, though, so that could hurt if it’s one of your sensitive days.” Felix shrugged. “Whatever you decide to show them, I’ll be here.”

“That’s because nobody else would take you.” Cry smiled faintly, turning his mask over in his hands again.

“Sure they would.” He poked the fire with a stick. “You’ve got a while to decide what face to show your kids. We’ve still got a month’s travel ahead of us, after all.”

Cry nodded slowly.

“I hope you know I’m going to be the best uncle to your kids.” Felix pulled the stick out of the flames and looked at it--it was on fire now. “We’ll have all sorts of adventures.”

Cry narrowed his eyes at the flaming stick. “You bring any sort of fire close to them and I’ll kill you myself.”

“We’ll be safe about it,” Felix assured, sticking the stick in the dirt to extinguish the fire. Then he paused and slowly met Cry’s eyes. “What happens if one of them has fire magic?”

Cry took a deep breath, unease flickering across his face. “I guess we’ll just have to wait and see. It’ll be a few years before they start showing any magic, so I’d rather not think about it until then.”

Felix leaned over and gave Cry a comforting pat. “We’ll figure it out. Deal?”

“Deal.”

\-----

“Brian.”

“Nope.”

“Dylan.”

“Nope.”

“...Jason.”

MatPat laughed and leaned back on his hands. “You wish.”

Jason crossed his arms. “Alright. I give up. What did you name your newest kid?”

“Scott.”

Jason raised an eyebrow. “Scott.”

MatPat nodded.

_ “Scott.” _

“That’s his name. Don’t wear it out.” MatPat’s expression made it clear he knew exactly what Jason was going to be doing for the next bit.

“It’s not a very noble-sounding name, now is it?”

MatPat sighed. “Our own King and Queen are named Wade and Molly.”

“Molly wasn’t born to a noble family. Wade, well, his name is a verb. He really doesn’t sound like king material.”

“Wow.” MatPat shook his head. “Wow. Treasonous words, there.”

“See, I didn’t say he was a bad king.” Jason smirked. “Just that he doesn’t sound like one.” He laid down and put his hands under his head. “There’s a difference.”

“Sure, Jason. Sure.”

Jason chuckled. “I’ll take first watch. Don’t wake me with gushing over  _ Scott _ when it comes time for your watch.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Sure, Matthew. Sure.”

\-----

The blue moon shone fairly brightly as Molly mounted her horse and Gar gave his one last lookover. They were different ones than what they normally rode, just so they could blend in with the horses normally found in the Sixth and Seventh Realms.

“You have your heavy cloak, right?” Wade asked, patting Molly’s horse.

“We have everything,” Gar promised. “And you know our travel plan.”

“I didn’t ask you.” Wade gave Gar a sullen glance.

Molly frowned. “Wade.”

His shoulders slumped. “Sorry, Gar. I just... wish this wasn’t necessary.”

“None of us want to do this.” Gar shrugged.

Wade took Molly’s hand and just held it for a minute. “I wanted to be with you when the baby was born, but...” But one of them had to stay in Primus to run the kingdom.

“I know.” Molly leaned down and gave Wade a kiss on the forehead. “I wanted you to be there, too. But duty is duty.”

“Duty is duty,” Wade echoed softly. He swallowed and turned to Gar. “Keep her safe, alright? Both of them.”

“I’ll protect them with my life,” Gar promised, like he had so many times before. “I hope it doesn’t come to that, but the kingdom is more important than me.” He paused as a familiar figure walked up to them. “What’re you doing?”

Pat frowned. “Dante’s not doing great, bud.”

Gar winced. It wasn’t likely Dante would live long enough to see the day he returned to Primus. “I know, but he’s too old to travel.”

Pat gestured for Gar to follow.

“We’re about to go-”

“It’ll be fast. And it’s something you’ll want to see. Besides, it’ll let their royalnesses say things they’ve been holding out on for company.”

Gar looked at Molly, and she gave a go-ahead gesture.

So Gar followed Pat.

“Marie and I don’t mind watching Dante while you’re gone,” Pat said as they approached Gar’s rooms, “but you didn’t tell us about the puppies.”

Gar blinked. “What?”

“Yeah, we figured Dante brought them.”

Gar reached for the door.

“Gar, they kind of look like him.”

Gar hesitated, but pushed his way into his rooms anyway, only to have tiny borks and the pattering of tiny feet fill the air.

Tiny corgis. Three of them jumping on Pat, one sitting next to Dante and Marie.

Gar walked over and crouched next to Dante, only to have Dante nudge the puppy there towards Gar.

“Are these yours?” Gar asked softly. “Why didn’t you tell me you had a girlfriend and kids?”

Dante borked once, and the puppy between them borked. It glanced at its siblings, and the now-giggling Pat, then trotted up to Gar.

Gar scratched it between the ears.

“You going to take her with you?” Marie asked.

The puppy borked.

Gar hesitated. They hadn’t really planned for a puppy, but... it would help cheer up Molly, at least.

He nodded and carefully scooped up the puppy.

Then he paused and turned to Marie, gaze flicking to Dante for a second. “Let me know when he’s gone?”

Marie hugged Gar. “Of course. Take care.”

As Gar walked out of the room, Dante’s daughter bundled safely in his arms, something told him he’d never get to see Dante again.


	22. A Fond Farewell

Traveling to the Fourth Realm was simultaneously the best and worst thing PJ had ever gone through. It was the best because, currently, they were in the Third Realm and there was a very familiar air to it all. Dan was relaxed, and PJ was more than sure the magic of the Realm had been humming to him. It was familiar, and comforting.

It was also the last taste of home he’d get for a while.

PJ sighed and crouched next to the haphazardly stacked pile of firewood to get the fire for the night started. It wouldn’t be going for long—they just needed it to cook, since it was warm enough to get by—but he was still worried they’d run out before they could get more. There weren’t any more forests on their journey, not since they’d left the First Realm. Just plains.

“Protector Liguori,” Carissa said hesitantly.

PJ sighed and glanced up. “Yes?”

“Is it possible to leave the fire going the entire night?”

“Not unless you want cold food for another fortnight.”

“One night isn’t going to make that much of a difference.”

“One full night is three additional days of cooking.” PJ still didn’t look up, instead blowing softly on the tiny flame, encouraging it to spread to the rest of the tinder. “That’s quite the difference.”

“Carissa-” Amanda sighed.

“No, Lady Faye. We need the extra light to make sure nothing is coming at us.”

PJ groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose, even as Dan sighed from behind him.

“Nothing’s going to attack us,” PJ said.

“How do you know that?”

PJ pointed to Dan. “Dangerous things stay away from him while we’re in the Third Realm.”

“Which is great. Means I’m useful for something, at least.” Then Dan cursed as a rattle of poles and heavy material echoed across their small campsite, and PJ smirked. Even after all these years, Dan always had trouble setting up the tent.

“There’s three moons,” Sophie added from where she was rifling through the packs. “And they’re all pretty close to full. There’s plenty of light.”

A long, long moment of silence, during which the fire finally started taking to the logs and PJ gave a sigh of relief. Good. That hadn’t been too bad. 

“Sorry, I missed why Lord Howell brought a maid,” Carissa said quietly, “and why you don’t know your place.”

PJ shot to his feet. Almost instantly, Dan grabbed his arm and pulled him back.

“Lord Howell didn’t bring me,” Sophie said, stepping up next to PJ with an eyebrow raised. “I brought myself. I’m not a maid.” She wrapped her hand in PJ’s—the one that wasn’t balled into a fist, anyway. “It is fairly common for spouses to move with each other.”

Carissa blanched, and Amanda crossed her arms and gave her guard a rather annoyed look. Dan kept his hand on PJ’s arm.

“I thought Protectors didn’t get married?”

“There’s no rule against it,” Dan said, holding PJ back just a bit more. “Historically, most don’t. Most right now are married, or at least in committed relationships.”

“Why would you do that? Don’t you die a lot?”

Dan’s grip on PJ’s arm loosened, just for a second, and it took all of PJ’s self-restraint not to yank free and punch Carissa.

“I would watch your mouth,” Amanda snapped. “Remember who you’re with.”

Carissa blanched even more, gaze flicking between Amanda and Dan, before she finally shut her mouth and walked over to the far side of the camp.

Dan finally let go of PJ’s arm, and PJ glared at her for a minute before returning to his original task of cooking the evening meal.

\-----

The sky grew progressively darker as the evening went on, and Carissa kept giving Sophie nasty, pointed looks.

Sophie ignored them.

Amanda pulled Dan to the side for a while, and they spoke in the growing wind, before Dan shook his head and returned to camp. Amanda stayed out a bit longer, speaking words nobody else could hear. A private communication spell, then. 

“She’s talking with Luna.” Dan ran a hand through his hair. “She broke the news about me a while ago, but Luna still doesn’t want to talk to me. I think she’s scared.”

“You have a reputation, after the war.”

Dan grimaced. “We both do.”

Do whatever was necessary. No mercy on those who had denied it to you. Assassinate their leaders before they can attack.

PJ shook his head slightly. “No. It’s you.” He had helped with all those things, yes, but Dan was the one who had given the orders for them; he was the one who had even thought up the ideas in the first place.

Dan sighed. “So be it.”

Amanda walked back over to them, an unfamiliar expression on her face. “PJ?”

“Yes, Lady Faye?”

“Luna wants to talk to you.” Amanda hesitated. “Is that alright?”

“Of course.” PJ dipped his head and stood, following Amanda to the edge of camp.

He waited a moment until she nodded, and then he joined in on the communication spell.

“Luna? This is Protector Liguori,” Amanda said softly.

“Hello,” said a young voice PJ didn’t recognize. Granted, the last time he’d seen Luna, she’d been five or six, and she was twelve now.

“Hello,” PJ replied.

And then, to his surprise, Amanda slipped out of the communication spell. He glanced over at her in concern, but she merely waved her hand and returned to the camp.

“You’re Lord Howell’s Protector, right?” Luna asked. She sounded afraid, almost.

“Yes. I am.”

“...and you used to be Lord Lester’s?”

PJ swallowed. “Yes. I was.”

A moment of silence. “What’s Lord Howell like? Growing up, I only heard what he was like in the war, but we’re not at war. It’s not normal. What was he like before the war?”

“Well, those are two different questions.” PJ sighed softly. “Both of us are different people than we were before the war started. Everyone old enough to remember life before and during was changed by it, to some degree.”

“Oh.” A pause. “Can you answer both?”

PJ smiled faintly, and a bit sadly. “Before the war he was reserved. Didn’t open up much to strangers. Still is, but to a lesser degree. Not terribly fond of public events, even less fond of ones that are formally structured. Thinks it’s a horrible idea for him to have any sort of responsibility for other people’s lives, but he does his best.” He sighed. “He used to sing and play music a lot, just as a way to pass the time, but... he hasn’t done it much recently.”

Dan had admitted it served as a reminder that he’d failed to be able to heal Phil, despite his hardest efforts. Plus, so many of the songs he was fond of were ones he and Phil had sung together a lot, or ones they had come up with together, and that... that was a reminder of a wound that would never fully heal.

“Is he good at it?”

“Very.”

A long silence.

“Heiress...” PJ took a breath. He had a feeling he knew what these questions were trying to do. “He’s not going to replace your father.”

Luna’s breath caught. “How did-”

“He’s filling the role of Lord, yes, but he has no intentions of replacing your father. He’s going to be your stepfather. He doesn’t expect you to love him, or even like him, so don’t feel like you have to. It’s okay.”

Another hesitation. “Protector Liguori?”

“Yes, Heiress?”

“...does he hate me?”

PJ blinked. “Why would he hate you?”

“Because I have the same magic as Lord Lester, but I’m not dead.”

PJ sighed. “He doesn’t hate you. He’s not even upset about it. You can’t control what kind of magic you have, Heiress, and he knows that.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m magically bound to him and can sense his emotions at all times, Heiress. I’m pretty sure.”

Luna’s sigh was surprisingly heavy for a twelve-year-old. “Okay.”

PJ hesitated. “Heiress... your mother isn’t expecting him to replace your father, either.”

Silence. Then: “How do you know that?”

“Because they’re not getting a marriage binding put on them. They’re just getting married.” He’d been present for that conversation and decision, even though it had happened back in Primus and he hadn’t been expected to follow Dan around all the time.

“There’s a difference?”

“There is. Marriage bindings can only happen at weddings, but they’re not required. Both your mother and Lord Howell have had them before, and neither of them felt it was right to have a new one. This marriage is just duty. That’s all.”

“I mean, I’m probably going to end up with half-siblings, right? ‘Cause that’s part of duty for married nobles, to have kids.”

“It’s possible.”

Luna sighed. “This is complicated.”

“It really is, and there’s not a lot I can do about that.”

Another paused. “You’ve given me a lot to think about, Protector Liguori. Thank you.”

“Of course, Heiress. If you have more questions, feel free to contact me again. We’ll be arriving in Quartal in a fortnight, if you want to ask questions before you meet Lord Howell.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Luna yawned. 

“Go to sleep, Heiress,” PJ murmured. “I don’t want your mother yelling at me for keeping you up.”

“...She would do that? I thought she can’t order you around.”

“Not technically, but I’m pretty sure that’s not going to stop her. She’s a determined woman.”

Luna laughed a bit. “Yeah. She is. Good luck with that.”

“Good night, Heiress.”

“Good night, Protector.”

A harsh wind blew across PJ’s face, and he blinked to realize the sky had been completely covered by clouds while he’d been occupied with Luna. There wasn’t any rain, at least not yet, but this had the possibility of becoming quite the storm. 

He was, after all, very familiar with the way the weather in the Third Realm worked.

Thunder cracked and lightning danced across the sky, and a shape seemed to appear in the clouds, illuminated from behind by something.

PJ darted back to camp, only to find Carissa staring at the sky, gaze following the flashes and thunderings, hand resting on her sword.

Dan was the only one sitting. His eyes were closed, but he’d lifted his face to the sky.

That was when the rain started, going from nothing to rippling sheets in seconds. Almost instantly, the fire was put out, and a hint of a smile came across Dan’s face. It was a sad smile, though.

Phil would have loved this.

An echoing, rumbling screech echoed through the sky, and Carissa flinched. Gasps tore from Amanda and Sophie both.

PJ’s binding with Dan rippled with amazement and wonder, and Dan’s eyes opened. He watched the sky for a moment, even as that giant form in the clouds was illuminated again, and his smile grew.

Then a giant golden bird dipped below the clouds, circling the camp, lightning dancing on its wings.

Carissa’s sword hissed softly as she started pulling it out of her scabbard, but PJ put his hand on her arm.

“That’s not necessary.”

“But-”

“No.”

Dan stood, his smile growing into a grin, and he turned to watch the thunderbird as it swooped around one more time before landing silently and gently next to Dan.

The two faced each other for a minute before the thunderbird lowered its head and blinked slowly at Dan, the lightning dancing along its feathers disappearing.

Dan reached up and placed his hand on its forehead, his grin slowly fading into a sad smile again.

“It’s been almost twenty years since we saw each other last.” Dan’s words were almost torn away by the storm. “I didn’t know you remembered me.”

The thunderbird made a soft trilling sound, bumping its head into Dan’s chest.

Dan chuckled softly. “We’re both grown up now, aren’t we.”

The thunderbird chirped softly, bumping Dan again. Then it put its head under Dan’s left hand, making sad sounds.

Dan’s breathing caught. “Yeah. He’s gone. Half a year now.”

The sound the thunderbird made was heartwrenching, but not nearly as much as the raw grief radiating off Dan.

“He was-” Dan cut himself off with a swallow, clearly trying to keep himself composed. “He saved both of us that night. Did you know that? If he hadn’t heard you, I probably wouldn’t have been able to pull myself through.” Dan took a long, shuddering breath. “He gave us everything he had. He gave everyone everything he had.”

The thunderbird bumped Dan again, and this time Dan leaned against it like he was hugging it. His face was buried into the feathers, but it didn’t hide his shaking shoulders or the soft gasps of his crying.

PJ was shaking as he walked up to Dan and put a hand on his shoulder. He didn’t have the composure to speak himself without bursting into tears, but he hoped Dan understood what he was trying to say anyway.

He missed Phil too. Not on the same level as Dan, and Dan couldn’t miss him like PJ did. But they both missed him, they both grieved over him still.

And they stood like that for several minutes, sobs wracking Dan’s body, until the thunderbird finally pulled away and enveloped them both in its wings.

An incredible song and overwhelming comfort fell over PJ like a blanket. And while PJ had never felt the magic of the Third Realm before, he had no doubt that this was what it was. Dil and Tabitha may be the Lord and Lady of it, but the magic felt very, very much like those evenings in Dan and Phil’s solar: full of music and laughter, and the warmth of fire and companionship.

It felt like Phil had wrapped his arms around them.


	23. The Gentle and the Strong

Gar did his best to keep Molly’s spirits up as they traveled, but there was only so much he could do. They didn’t know when they would be returning to Primus. They didn’t know  _ if _ they would be returning to Primus.

The forests covering the entire northern part of the First Realm were quiet, at least. The highways were fairly busy, so Gar had elected to take them through the forest trails to avoid attention. The last thing they needed was someone recognizing Molly and talking about it. It was slower travel, but that was alright. Safety was more important than speed.

Gar glanced over his shoulder to Molly. The path they were following at the moment was only wide enough for one horse to walk safely at a time, and she didn’t know the way, so he had to lead. That didn’t mean he didn’t worry about someone sneaking up behind them, though.

Molly was dozing in the saddle, and he sighed. Despite her assurances to Wade every night that she was fine, traveling was really wearing her out. They hadn’t even left the First Realm yet, not quite.

Gar made a face and returned his attention to the path in front of them. He’d been hoping they could avoid it, but it looked like they were going to need to take the longer of the two planned paths and stop in Hextal and Septimal before they headed up to the Guardians. Molly was going to need more rest for each segment of the journey than they’d planned.

Pat’s magic brushed Gar, and he hesitated, glancing at the puppy sleeping in his saddlebag. He still didn’t have a name for her.

Then he accepted the communication spell.

“How’s it going?” Pat asked, sounding as tired as Gar felt.

Gar sighed, glancing around them again. “It’s going.”

“That’s not helpful.”

Gar brushed his binding to Molly, only to get the slightest of response. She wasn’t going to wake up and listen to this conversation, then.

“We’re both tired, but we were kind of expecting that.” Gar resisted the temptation to stretch—that might cause a yawn and he didn’t need that at the moment. “She’s holding up, though.”

A pause. “And you?”

Gar made a face. “I’m holding up, too.”

“Gar. You know I can sense things about you, right? What’s worrying you so much?”

“I dunno. It’s just... very quiet here.” Gar glanced up at the treetops, at the slowly darkening sky showing through the leaves. “I’m not used to that.” Hopefully Pat would buy that, because Gar wasn’t sure he could explain what was actually worrying him.

A long silence.

“Will it help if I promise not to tell Wade?”

Gar sighed. “Can you even do that?”

“Well, it’s nothing life-threatening, or you would have already told me. So, yeah. I think I can do that. Y’know, assuming it doesn’t end up being something life-threatening.”

Gar pondered that for a minute, then nodded. Not that Pat could see it. “Alright.” He took a deep breath. “So, the way you can sense the other Protectors.”

“You can sense future ones, yeah. Did you learn something new?”

Gar’s horse shifted slightly, as if concerned about Gar’s worries, so he leaned forward and gave it a comforting pat on the neck. “Yeah. I did.” He frowned. “It’s taken me a while to figure it out, and I’m honestly still not sure I’m right about it.”

“Well, it’s not like there’s been anyone in your position for over a hundred years. Not really much in the way of notes for your type.”

Gar made a sound of agreement, though he wasn’t quite sure which one.

“It’s super vague right now, like how sensing the trainees was when I first started being able to do that—or when you first started being able to sense the Protectors...” Gar took a deep breath. “And this is going to sound weird, but I’m sort of able to sense Heirs. Even if they’re not born yet.”

A moment of silence. Then: “You were right, that does sound weird. Our entire existence is weird, though.” Pat paused again. “Why is this worrying you?”

Gar hesitated, once again making sure Molly wasn’t about to wake up and hear him talk. “I know I’m new at the whole sensing thing, especially for this, but...”

“Can you sense the baby?”

Gar nodded. “...both of them.”

A long silence.

“Both. You sure about that?”

Gar nodded. “Yeah. I am.”

Pat let out a long breath. “Yeah, that’s gonna be a tough secret to keep.” He paused. “What are the chances that we’d end up with multiple batches of multiples in the nobility?”

“I mean, the magic can force whatever it wants. I guess it wants as many nobles as possible and decided that was the best way to go.” It wasn’t terribly surprising considering that, in order to fully function, the Realms as a whole required a minimum of forty-nine nobles (preferably much more), and they had twenty-three—nine of which were children or infants.

“I guess.” Pat sighed. “Hoo boy. Sooner or later we’re going to be wading through nobles.”

“It’s better than not having enough.”

“I mean, yeah, but still. Yikes.” Then Pat chuckled. “The Guardians are going to be dealing with so many children with uncontrolled magic.”

“Fortunately, they are dragons. It is rather difficult to kill them.”

Pat laughed. “Let’s hope so.”

Gar shook his head. “Anyway. After we get settled for the night, I’m going to see if I can get ahold of Jason; find out where the first of the rest houses is supposed to be.” Supposedly, MatPat and Jason were setting up places where Gar and Molly could rest and resupply without having to deal with possibly being recognized and all those risks, but Gar had yet to hear confirmation on that.

“Yeah, take care of yourself, bud. Don’t push yourself too hard.” Pat’s worry was clear in his voice. “Last thing you need is getting sick from the stress.”

“I’ll try to avoid it,” Gar promised, though he made a mental note to avoid mentioning just how much his body and mind ached from keeping an eye on Molly and arranging travel and keeping them from being seen and keeping watch for danger.

“Hmm.” Pat didn’t sound very convinced, but neither did he say anything more on the topic. Instead, he said, “Well, I’ve got to head back to Wade. Don’t be afraid to yell for Jason if you need help, for whatever reason.”

“I won’t.”

“Take care.”

“You too.”

And Pat’s magic was gone.

Gar’s horse flicked an ear at him, and he leaned forward and patted its neck. “Hey, you. Get used to it.”

It tossed its mane slightly, and Gar rolled his eyes.

His binding stirred slightly, and he glanced back over his shoulder to see Molly slowly blinking and rubbing her neck.

“How was your nap?” Gar asked.

Molly frowned and shook her head before straightening in the saddle. “Could have been better. Don’t feel like I actually got all that much rest.”

“Riding on a horse isn’t the best sleeping position, no.”

Molly sighed. “How long was I out?”

“It’s almost sunset.” Gar peered through the canopy of leaves above them. “We should stop soon.”

Molly made a face. “I would say that would leave me being up all night, but I’m still really tired.”

“You’re not keeping watch all night, anyway.” Gar shrugged. “Wade would have my head.”

“He’s overly dramatic sometimes.”

“I’ve noticed.”

Molly snorted. 

Then she paused.

“Gar?”

“Hmm?” Gar looked back over his shoulder.

Molly nodded her head into the forest. “Look.”

Gar quietly pulled his horse to a slower pace and followed her gaze.

At first, he thought it was a horse that was slowly approaching them, but then light glinted off a horn, and Gar blinked. It couldn’t be a unicorn, they didn’t live in the Realms. He’d seen them, but not in the Realms.

Feathered wings ruffled slightly and the creature inched a bit closer, clearly interested in Molly.

An alicorn.

Gar’s breath caught, and he pulled his horse to a stop. He wasn’t going to attack the alicorn, not if he could help it, but he wasn’t going to leave Molly.

The alicorn approached slowly before finally stopping a few feet away from Molly on her horse.

Molly breathed out slowly, awe radiating off her.

Then she dismounted.

It took all of Gar’s self control not to tense, not to shift his sword from being slung across his back to dangling more at his side where could reach it in case of trouble.

Alicorns were incredibly reclusive. They weren’t threatening.

This one was apparently just curious.

Or maybe it had sensed the royal magic that always radiated from Molly.

Maybe it was curious about the royal magic radiating from Molly. She was the queen; the magic was stronger in her than it was in any kind of Heir, and there hadn't been a queen in the Realms for hundred of years. Just ruling princesses. (Since they had married into the kingdom and didn't have royal magic.)

The alicorn ducked its head under Molly's touch, allowing her to stroke its neck. Its eyes closed for a moment before gently nuzzling Molly's abdomen.

Ah. It had been attracted by the developing Heirs, then.

Then the alicorn lifted its head and, ignoring Molly's puzzled expression, looked at Gar.

A soft questioning filled Gar's mind, and concern as to why Molly was traveling, and a request to inspect Gar's mind to find the answers.

Gar hesitated, then dipped his head.

The alicorn dipped its own, then walked up to Gar on his horse and set its horn on Gar's leg.

Gar set his hand on it, feeling oddly bare without his usual armor.

Calming whispers filled Gar's mind, and the softest of touches explored the answers Gar presented. The whispers seemed worried about the rogue dragon (which made sense) and then turned to assuring Gar that Molly was strong enough to handle the demands on her body with no long term damage, though she'd just get more tired as time went on.

Gar frowned. He'd have to resort to giving her some of his own energy sooner or later, then. 

Which, the last time he'd done such a thing, has resulted in Snow being stuck as a shade for a thousand years.

He'd been trying to avoid it since.

If Molly needed it, though, he would do it.

The alicorn pulled away, its last whispers echoing some sort of warning, a caution for something Gar didn’t quite catch, and then walked into the woods.


	24. Rumours

Molly, as Queens went, was certainly private. Knowledge of her daily schedule was available only to those closest to her (and the Wolf Guard, but they had all been hand-picked by Gar or Pat and approved by Wade and Molly both), and she rarely appeared in public.

Still, people noticed when she seemingly vanished, along with her Protector.

It took a fortnight for the first of the rumours to reach Pat, and, by extension, Wade. They were small things. Worries that the Queen had taken ill, mostly.

The third week after she and Gar had left for the Guardians, the rumors had gotten significantly worse.

Pat amused himself by listening to them in the halls of the palace, and in the streets when Wade ventured out. (Well, when he wasn’t busy trying not to panic over Wade being such an obvious target, at least.) The ones in the palace were intense, and likely the start of most of the ones on the streets of Primus, but nothing Pat hadn’t heard before in his time guarding a certain member of the royal family. The titles were different, but that was about it.

“Nobody’s seen either the Queen or her Protector in three weeks. Her illness must be worse than we all thought.”

“Surely the King would have said something by now.”

“He’s got to keep up morale, with what’s happening in the Land of the Squirrels.”

Pat quietly sent a calming touch across his binding with Wade, but didn’t take his eyes away from scanning the crowd around them for danger.

He missed having Gar riding on the other side of the royal couple, knowing he had a great man, a great friend, ready to fight alongside him should danger happen.

But everyone was right: Molly hadn’t been seen in three weeks (Gar had made sure of that), and so the rides of the royal couple and the Royal Protectors had come to an end.

“It’s not right, the King riding alone.” Because apparently Pat and the three members of the Royal Guard with them didn’t exist.

“Why isn’t he with her?”

Wade’s shoulders tightened the barest amount at the murmurs reaching their ears, and Pat sent another burst of calming.

Their entire ride to the open plains south of the city was filled with these comments, and Pat was starting to wonder if this had been a good idea on the first place.

Finally, though, the last of the group that had been trailing them broke off and went back, likely having to return to their own responsibilities. 

“You ready?” Pat asked, glancing at Wade.

Wade nodded, pulling off his crown and dropping it in his saddlebag. “Ready.”

Pat smiled, and nodded to the members of the Royal Guard. They nodded back and pulled their horses to a stop, allowing Wade and Pat to pull ahead.

“Race you.”

The two words were all it took, and both Wade and Pat’s horses jumped into action.

Neither of their horses were built for speed, but neither of them was really actually interested in racing.

There was just something so freeing about having the ground fly by under Pat. Maybe it was the air coursing over him, or how he’d never be able to do something like this on his own. Maybe it was because of the memories associated with this: Wade and Molly getting time to laugh and enjoy themselves away from the palace, Pat not having to worry about any sort of assassination attempts, Gar’s delighted whoops as his horse (by far the fastest—and smallest—of the bunch) got to stretch its legs and run.

Maybe it was because he and Wade had done this back when he was still a prince, before he’d ever been in a position where he could inherit the throne, before he’d gone from the third Heir to the only one.

Or maybe it was because Pat always ended up pulling ahead of Wade in these.

Pat pulled his horse to a stop at the usual place (a stream hidden from view until you came upon it) and laughed at the sheer exhilaration from it.

Wade came to a stop a moment later, his own delighted grin stretching wide.

Pat dismounted and gave Epona a pat on the neck, letting it drink from the stream.

Wade dismounted himself and stretched. “We haven’t gone that fast for... years.” He was a bit breathless, and their bond was shaking with the same exhilaration filling Pat.

“It was long overdue.” Pat grinned and spread his arms, allowing the early fall sun to warm him.

It was true, though. Molly preferred slower rides, and Wade was more than happy to indulge her in that. Gar and Pat always stayed near them, as was their job as Protectors, and would just talk and let Wade and Molly spend time together.

And before Molly had been joining them on their rides... well, the last ride before then was when Wade was still a prince, over a decade ago.

They’d fought a war since their last ride like that. Pat had  _ died _ since their last ride like that.

This ride had certainly been overdue.

Wade sighed, patting his horse with an absent look on his face.

Pat just looked over.

“What am I supposed to do about the rumors, Pat?” Wade looked over. “They’re just going to get worse, but if I go out and say I had to send her away for her safety, I’m going to be flooded with questions and even more rumors will start. And I don’t want to announce the baby until I’m sure everything’s okay, and I don’t know when that will be.”

Hearing ‘baby’ in the singular gave Pat the slightest twinge of guilt that he was keeping that secret from Wade, but he squashed it pretty quickly. Gar could be wrong, and Pat didn’t want to worry Wade any more than he had to—especially if Gar was wrong.

It happened sometimes.

“I don’t know.” Pat sighed himself. “I don’t think you can really do anything about them, honestly; not without people panicking.”

“They’re going to sooner or later.” Wade made a face. “Especially if we help Mark in their war.”

“Do we have the resources for that?”

“Can we afford not to?”

Pat frowned. “Okay, we’re going down this path again, and we haven’t gotten any answers yet, so let’s stop here before we worry ourselves into grumpy messes.”

Wade sighed.

They had indeed had this talk several times: in the meetings with the other nobles, with Molly and Gar, and with each other. If they could help the Land of the Squirrels fight off Adroy, they might be able to stop this before it came to the Realms.

But it wasn’t a guarantee, and the Realms were still suffering badly from the Suzerain War.

They had to wait to see what each of the Realms could possibly muster to help. They would be hearing from the first of the nobles soon, within a fortnight or so, but it would be quite a bit longer for the Second and Fourth Realms to give their reports on the matter, since they both had nobility weddings to plan, no matter how quiet and private they would end up being.

“Come on.” Pat kicked water onto Wade. “The kingdom isn’t going to fall apart if you stop thinking about it for a while.”

Wade screeched. “Pat! That’s  _ cold!” _

Pat just laughed.

\-----

The sun was setting by the time they returned to the palace: the light of the sunset painting the leaves even more orange than most already were. The stables were quiet as they dismounted and brushed down their horses, and the rest of the palace was just as calm.

“I’ll be in my rooms for the rest of the night,” Wade said softly, as if speaking loudly would break the peaceful silence that had fallen. “Hopefully I’ll get to talk to Molly, but if Gar says she’s fallen asleep already, just let me know.”

Pat gave a half-salute and walked into his own rooms next door.

He and Marie had found homes for most of the remaining corgi pups, but one remained. It and Ophelia seemed to get along decently well, at least.

Pat leaned down and gave Dante a scratch between the ears before going off in search of Marie.

“Some of the kitchen staff were talking, earlier,” Marie said by way of greeting. “Rumors have gotten worse.”

Pat sighed. “What are they now?”

“They’re saying Molly was kidnapped and Gar is chasing after her, and Wade hasn’t said anything because he doesn’t want to alarm anyone.”

Pat made a face. “Lovely. I’ll hold out on telling him that one until the morning, I think.”

“Have you told Gar about any of these?”

Pat shook his head. “It’s not his problem to worry about, at least for now. I’ll tell him when they get close to a town.” He paused and scowled. “Hopefully rumors of the Demon Prince being alive and well don’t start circling, especially if they join up with the ‘Molly was kidnapped’ ones. That would just make his life difficult.”


	25. The Border Between Life and Death

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy birthday, Brownie!

To any outsider, Dan seemed extremely comfortable in his own skin as he joined Amanda in riding the streets of Quartal to the fortress.

To PJ, he was screaming inside his own skin.

This was probably because the streets were absolutely packed, to the point where the fortress and city guards had had to come and force a path in the crowd to allow them through.

And that, that was because the people were aware what role Dan would be taking shortly, and they wanted to see what their new lord would look like.

Dan gave an ‘easy’ smile to the crowd, and PJ sent a steady stream of calming through their binding.

Not that it was easy to stay calm himself, with the number of eyes that were on him. 

“They don’t seem to know what to think of you,” Amanda said, her voice barely audible over the crowd.

Dan gave that uncomfortable laugh. “That’s fair.”

PJ sent more calming across the bond, trying desperately to get a feel for the streets as he went.

It didn’t work very well.

The streets got more and more crowded the closer they got to the fortress, until it got to the point where they were all riding closely enough together that PJ could just reach over and poke Dan.

And this...

This was incredibly bad.

PJ couldn’t move to protect Dan in these kinds of conditions, and he couldn’t see any threats with the crowd pressing so closely. For all he knew, someone was ready to stab or shoot or bludgeon Dan right then and there.

PJ edged his horse closer to Dan, getting a protesting whinny in response.

_ Just a few more streets, _ PJ told himself. They were already in the shadow of the fortress, it couldn’t be far now.

Movement from neighboring rooftops caught PJ’s attention, and he glanced over just in time for the person next to him to sprout an arrow in their back.

The only hint at what was happening next was another flutter of movement from that same roof, just a bit further ahead.

Instinctively, he pushed his horse forward.

Pain exploded in his thigh, and an involuntary cry of pain tore from him.

“Peej!” Dan was reaching for him, and it was only then PJ realized he was starting to fall from the saddle.

“Stay on that side of me.” PJ grit his teeth against the pain and hauled himself into a fully upright position. He wasn’t going to lose someone else to an arrow.

It only took another second for PJ to reach and pull his shield onto his arm, but it was a second too long. One arrow raked across his left forearm before sinking into Dan’s horse. The other, just a split second behind, slammed into PJ’s shield with enough force to send him tumbling.

Armor piercing crossbow bolts. Had to be, unless someone had managed to sneak a bow with that heavy of a draw up onto a roof.

“PJ!” Dan sounded a bit distant, even though his arms were going around PJ. It was probably the easiest place to put them in this mess of Dan’s screaming, collapsed horse and Dan and PJ’s limbs caught on each other.

PJ hauled his shield over them, covering Dan’s torso and head and neck the best he could. Hopefully any more arrows aimed at them would hit that; he really didn’t want to think of the damage the one to his leg had already done, much less what more would do.

“PJ, you’re bleeding!”

Despite himself, PJ chuckled. He wasn’t sure why, though.

Another arrow embedded itself in PJ’s shield, and his arm about crumpled at the impact.

It was getting increasingly exhausting to hold up his shield, his arm and back muscles shaking more and more violently as the minutes passed.

No more arrows came, though.

“Milady! Are you alright?”

PJ didn’t know that voice.

“I wasn’t hit by anything,” Amanda replied.

Someone tugged PJ’s shield off his arm. He couldn’t do anything about it. His entire body felt sluggish, and his mind was swimming too much for him to power through it.

“Peej, Peej, stay with me.” Dan’s voice was desperate. “I can’t lose you too.”

PJ wanted to assure him, comfort him, but he couldn’t.

And then all he could feel was Dan’s panic rolling off their bond.

\-----

He stood at the barrier, at the border of the fog of mist separating him and his prince, as his companion took a few hesitant steps in.

“PJ’s hurt,” the companion murmured, the fog swirling around his feet. “He hasn’t been this close to me since I crossed.”

The first sighed. “Dwelling on it isn’t going to help him. We don’t want to pull them across, remember?”

“I know, I know.” The companion ran his fingers through the fog, watching it swirl. “The first time you died… did you come here?”

“After I faded?”

“Yeah.”

“No. I went to my medallion.”

The companion sighed, his gaze drifting to the fog again. Most likely, he was watching the border between life and death, deep in the fog. It was impossible to see from here, but they both knew it was there.

“I wish I could help them.”

The first hesitated, then stepped into the edge of the fog himself.

Instantly, his binding was twitching. If it were alive, he would describe it as a heartbeat, stretching across the border. The other half of his bond, at least, was calm. Worried and tense, but calm.

The companion took another step into the fog.

The first looked over sharply. “No.”

“But-“

“Don’t let your bond with him get in the way of your thoughts, okay? You can feel it when he gets closer to death; he’ll be able to feel it when you walk closer to life. And I can promise you it’ll be a thousand times more uncomfortable for him. He was supposed to cross with you.”

“But you helped him walk away.”

“I did, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel the pull still. All three of them will. They all have things they need to do.”

The companion gave a longing gaze into the fog. “I want to help them, though. PJ’s hurt, he’s hovering in the fog, on the other side of the border. And Dan—he’s upset and angry and, and-”

“And you walking closer towards the border will just remind him more of you.” The first put a hand on the companion’s shoulder. “Let them be.”

“Don’t you ever want to cross back over?”

“I don’t particularly want to be a ghost. I’ve spent most of my existence without a body in a very physical state of life. I’d rather not repeat the experience.” The first paused as a third walked up to them. “It’s been a while since you’ve come.”

“It’s been a while since Amanda’s been this distressed.”

“Matthias-”

“I know. I know.” The former Lord of the Fourth Realm peered into the fog. “I just wish I was there for Luna.”

“She’ll make a fantastic Lady one day.”

Matthias smiled at that, then he glanced to the companion and his smile vanished. “Phil.”

“I’m sorry, okay?” Phil swallowed and stopped where he was, several feet deeper into the fog. “I wanted to see if I could get past the hard part.”

‘The hard part’ was much like wading into a river, then, no matter where you entered the fog, the current started dragging you back to the lands of the dead. The further you went, the stronger the current got, and the steeper the hill the river ran down. Eventually, you were faced with a roaring waterfall over an impossibly steep cliff.

And that; that was the border between life and death.

The first had managed to get that far before, exhausting whatever form of body he had here, following the bond he still had with someone in the lands of the living, only to find PJ hovering on the edge right after Phil's death.

He hadn’t bothered to try since.

“Stop trying. You’re only hurting them.”

“But-”

“We’ll see them when they die. That’s all that matters.” Matthias crossed his arms. “So come on out.”

Phil’s shoulders slumped, but he nodded and turned and returned to them.

The first soul, though, remained where he stood in the fog.

“One day,” he murmured, softly enough that the others couldn’t hear him, “one day we’ll be able to talk again. And then I have so many stories to tell you. Not yet, though. Not yet, my prince.”

Then he turned and joined Matthias and Phil. He might as well pass the time talking with Crumpler and Piya. It made the absence of the fourth member of their group hurt less.

\-----

Phil was tugging PJ deeper into the darkness, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to fight it.

But he was Dan’s Protector now. Not Phil’s. He shouldn’t be listening to this. He should be fighting it, trying to get back to Dan, trying to be there for Dan.

But Phil seemed so  _ close. _ Almost like if PJ reached out, he could fall forward and down and touch him.

Abruptly, the tugging stopped, or at least faded to what it normally was, and PJ blinked. He seemed to be at the edge of a pool, almost to a waterfall.

Something told him Phil was at the bottom of it.

Familiar magic slammed into him, grabbing him, wrapping him, and hauled him back the way he’d come.

Dan.

Dan wanted him to be alive.

He needed to be there for Dan.

PJ suddenly found himself exhausted, and it was all he could do to cling to Dan’s magic.

\-----

“Lord Howell,” said a rather frigid voice, “you need to leave the room. Protector Liguori isn’t well enough for visitors.”

“You cannot keep me from my own Protector,” Dan said. He sounded exhausted. “No matter how injured he is.”

“So you keep saying, but I fail to see how your presence is required. It doesn’t do anything for him, and the more people he comes in contact with right now the higher the chance that he’ll fall ill. Right now, that would be fatal.”

Ah. PJ should probably open his eyes and interfere. This wasn’t going to go over well.

“We’ve been over this.”

“I don’t care. Healing magic doesn’t make up for a lack of skill and training. You can’t force your way through this one like you did your problems in the war.”

PJ sighed and opened his eyes.

Both Dan and an unknown person—probably a healer that PJ would get very much acquainted with over the next few years—were both looking at him.

Relief washed across Dan, and the healer smiled.

“I’m glad to see you’re awake,” the healer said evenly, soothingly.

PJ was not about to be soothed.

“Did you try to keep Lord Howell away from me?” Talking took more effort than he’d anticipated, but considering how heavy his body felt, he probably didn’t have much in the way of energy anyway.

“Don’t agitate yourself.” The healer put a hand on PJ’s shoulder, effectively keeping him from trying to move. “There’s still traces of poison in your system, and you lost a lot of blood.”

PJ pushed the hand off him. “Did you, or did you not, try to keep my lord away from me?”

The healer sighed. “He was just getting in the way, Protector Liguori. He barged in, despite the guards at the door, just hours after you’d been shot; we’ve had a hard time getting rid of him in the two days since.”

No wonder Dan was so tired. He must have been pouring healing into PJ every chance he had.

“I apologize if his humming and singing has interrupted your rest.”

PJ frowned. Exhaustion was tugging on him, trying to get him to fall back into sleep, but he needed to sort this out first.

“He pulled me back.”

The healer froze, and Dan smirked.

“What do you mean?”

“I was going to die, I was so close to going over, and he pulled me back.”

The healer frowned. “Very well.” They hesitated. “I can’t allow him to stay, Protector Liguori. He’s not a healer. He’ll do you more harm than good.”

Dan rolled his eyes hard enough it seemed like they might roll themselves right out of his head.

Dan was alright, then.

“The only person I trust more with healing me is the King himself,” PJ said. “And he’s over a month away, so…”

The healer looked offended at that, and Dan shrugged.

“He doesn’t have the training he needs.”

“I’m sure you two can work together.” PJ sighed. “If you’ll excuse us, Lord Howell and I need to have a word before I inevitably fall asleep again.”

The healer dipped their head stiffly. “I’ll bring you some food.”

“Thank you.”

The healer left the room, and Dan moved to sit on the side of PJ’s bed.

“How bad is it?” PJ nodded to his leg. He still had it, which was almost more than he’d been expecting, and it hurt a  _ lot _ , which was about as expected.

“Pretty bad.” Dan ran a hand over his face. “I would have been trying to heal it, but I was more concerned with the whole poison thing.”

“I didn’t know you could cure that.”

“Neither did I.”

Dan sighed, closing his eyes for a minute. “I was so scared I was going to lose you, too.”

“It’s my job to stay, Dan.”

“That doesn’t make it any better.”

PJ put a comforting hand on Dan, hesitating. Then he pushed ahead.

“You… you weren’t the only one pulling me.”

Dan went still, and all sort of emotions began rolling off him.

“As soon as you grabbed me, though, Phil let go. It was almost like…” PJ frowned. “Like he didn’t want to accidentally drag you too.”

Dan’s breath caught. “He would.”

Dan swallowed, then put a hand on PJ’s shoulder. “If you’re still up to it after you eat, you and I need to speak with the healer. We have to sort out wedding stuff.”

PJ nodded. “Deal.”


	26. Gryphons

The mountains that held the border between the First and Sixth Realms were nice, Gar supposed, but he much preferred more open land. The mountains were heavily forested, after all; both the towering rocks and the thick trees made it difficult to see anything.

Sure, the rocky plains and bogs of the rest of the Realm were going to present their own challenges, but at least there would be towns and way stations and the rest houses to restock on supplies and stuff.

Today was the last day in the mountains, though. They’d leave them in the early morning tomorrow, and Gar would be able to rest easier.

“There’s something out there,” Molly murmured, looking around.

Gar nodded. He could feel it too. They were being watched.

A long pause.

“When are we scheduled to stop traveling, again?” Molly asked.

Gar quietly ran over their route in his mind. They’d been going slower than he’d hoped, and had been on the go for a month and a half already. Things were only going to get more difficult as autumn—and Molly’s pregnancy—progressed.

“Two months, at most.”

Molly groaned. Late fall. “Travel is going to be awful.”

“It’s possible Redscale might meet us in Septimal, but he hasn’t confirmed that yet. I think he and the others are trying to figure out how you could safely ride him there.”

“Oh, I hope so. I could handle a few hours of more uncomfortable travel if it cut off a month.”

Gar gave her a reassuring look. “I’ll do my best.”

Molly gave a smile back.

A squeak sounded, and a cat-sized ball of fluffy feathers and fur—and a tail—tumbled in front of Gar’s horse.

Instantly, he pulled back, barely managing to avoid his horse stepping on it.

“What is that?” Molly pulled back on her own horse.

Gar shook his head. “I didn’t get a good look at it.” He carefully nudged his horse sideways, revealing what was unmistakably a gryphon kit huddling there.

Gar’s eyes widened, and he backed up to Molly, eyes scanning the rocks and forest surrounding them. “Don’t touch it. The parents won’t be far.”

A low rumble was the only warning before something heavy and clawed slammed into Gar’s chest, and then things happened all at once.

Gar’s horse spooked, rearing and adding more momentum to Gar’s fall. Molly screamed. Pain raked down Gar’s front, tearing through his light armor without the slightest bit of problem. The puppy gave a startled bork. Gar slammed into the ground, all the air wooshing out of him, and pain exploded in his chest.

Standing on him was another gryphon, this one larger than he was. And that wasn’t the worst part—Gar had seen gryphons before, and this wasn’t an adult. The parents had still yet to show.

The adolescent gryphon made some sort of screeching sound, claws digging into Gar’s abdomen.

Gar gasped, instinctively trying to shove it off him.

Instead, another set of claws dug into him—this one much smaller, and much lighter.

And another.

By the time Molly was calling his name, Gar had two adolescent gryphons and three kits pinning him, covering his arms and legs in clawed scratches, the frightfully long claws of the adolescents digging into his side and abdomen, and-

Claws raked down his face.

Gar screamed. His hands strained towards his eyes, and he could feel something warm—blood, perhaps?—run between his fingers.

And then,  _ then  _ was the heart-stoppingly loud screech that Gar had been worried about originally, and  _ then _ was the thud that signified the landing of an adult.

And then another screech, and all the weight left Gar.

He couldn’t see anything. He couldn’t see what was happening.

Then Molly was at his side, pulling off her cloak and placing it on his abdomen.

Bleeding. She was trying to stop bleeding.

One of Molly’s arms went under Gar’s shoulders, pulling him up like she was cradling him. Like Snow had done all that time ago.

“Hold on, Gar,” Molly begged.

It took all of Gar’s energy to nod, to murmur “I’ll do my best.”

Then most of the world faded.

Gar wasn’t unconscious, though. Not completely, at least. He could still feel the panic rolling off Molly; his body getting weaker as he bled from his numerous injuries; the world getting colder; and, most peculiarly, a tiny tongue licking his hand.

He probably wasn’t going to be able to survive the night.

Molly. Molly had to be protected. Molly had to be escorted to the Guardians.

Gar reached his magic northwest, to Hextal.

“What’s up?” Jason asked.

Gar tried to answer, he really did, but his words caught and he spluttered and coughed instead.

In Hextal, Jason froze in his walking to his own quarters and frowned. That couldn’t be good. “Cap?”

“Southeast border…” Gar wheezed. “Can’t… Hurt.”

Alarm coursed through Jason, and he promptly took the last hallway to MatPat’s rooms and slammed his hand on the door.

“Where are you?” Jason asked. If Gar was so badly hurt that he couldn’t even talk, there was just no way they’d reach him in time, but they would need to get to Molly.

Gar didn’t answer.

Jason cursed just as Steph opened the door.

She blinked as he pushed past her.

“Matthew!”

MatPat looked up from the couch, where he was surrounded by small children. “What’s wrong?”

“Molly and Cap are in trouble.”

MatPat’s expression went grave, and he set down the book he was holding. “Sorry, kids. We’ll pick this up later.”

A chorus of murmured  _ aww _ s and  _ but dad _ s sang out, but all of the Heirs moved aside to let MatPat stand.

“I’ll handle things,” Steph assured, giving MatPat a quick hug. “You do what you need to do.”

He nodded and followed Jason into the hallway. After that, it took under a minute for them to reach MatPat’s office.

“Is Molly alright?” MatPat asked. “Do you know?”

“I don’t know. Gar stopped responding to me.”

MatPat winced. “Yeah, that’s not good. Here, I’ll see if I can reach her. You talk to Pat, see if he or Wade has anything.”

Jason nodded, pulling his magic away from Gar and reaching it towards Primus.

It took a moment for Pat to answer, in which MatPat started speaking himself (apparently Molly was in a condition to be able to answer a communication spell, at least).

“Are you anywhere close to Gar or Molly?” The words spilled from Pat the second their magics came into contact.

“I don’t think so. We don’t know where they are right now. We’re trying to figure that out.”

Pat cursed. “Gar’s close to death, and Wade doesn’t think Molly’s hurt, but she’s definitely panicking. I was hoping you’d be able to help.”

“We might be able to. We don’t know yet.”

“I hope so, because otherwise Molly will be without a Protector until she reaches the Guardians.”

Jason sighed. “I think Matthew is talking with her right now. I don’t think we’ll be able to reach them in time to help Gar, but-“

“I think we will.” MatPat interrupted, glancing over at Jason.

“What? How?”

“Gimme a minute.”

“What’s going on?” Pat asked, his voice worn with worry.

“I don’t know. Matthew’s being cryptic.”

“It’s okay, Molly. We’ll get a healer ready. We’ll do all we can for him.”

“Well, let me know as soon as something happens. Wade’s panicking, and I don’t want to talk too long.”

“Molly’s safe. She’s talking with Matthew. That’s for sure.”

“Okay. I’ll pass that on. You do your thing. I’ll do mine.”

“Deal.”

And Pat’s magic was gone, leaving Jason looking to MatPat for answers.

Finally, MatPat put his hands on his desk and his shoulders slumped and he let out a long, long breath.

“And?” Jason asked.

MatPat looked up. “They’ll be here by midnight. A gryphon is bringing them.”


	27. The Queen's Protector

Over the years, many, many words had been used to describe Gar as Molly's Protector. At first, when the binding was of his own creation, those words had been “powerful,” “unknown,” “fake.”

And then he had been reawoken as the Demon Prince, and those names had gotten far less complimentary.

Recently, they'd been “mysterious,” “strong,” “demanding,” “loyal,” and, to some, “friend”.

Never had any of those descriptions prepared Jason for now.

“Gray,” “awful,” “on death's doorstep;” these were the ways to describe Gar now.

It was honestly a miracle that Gar was still breathing at this point.

Jason stole another glimpse into the room where Gar was being kept, only to wince and look away.

MatPat had had healers at the ready when the gryphon had arrived with Molly on its back, cradling a limp and unresponsive Gar in her arms, and they'd been working non-stop for hours now to treat Gar's injuries.

Most of it was over now: bandages and poultices and stitches had been applied, and broken bones were set. Only one healer remained in the room, leaning over Gar and doing something Jason couldn't see.

Finally, the healer exited the room with a sigh and a, “Someone will be coming to check on him every half hour or so, until he either improves or dies.”

Jason dipped his head in thanks and slipped inside the room.

Most of Gar was hidden underneath blankets (one of which Jason distinctly remembered as belonging to the eldest Patrick child, gently set near Gar's head), but his head was visible.

That was plenty horrifying by itself.

Gar's face was covered in scratches and cuts and gouges. Some had been stitched, some had been left alone, and the rest had had a variety of care.

Worst of all, though, was the bloody bandage covering Gar's eyes.

For a second, Jason couldn't help but think of the similarly-bandaged ego Mark was dealing with, but he pushed the thought aside. 

For starters, Gar wasn't dead.

At least, not yet.

That in itself was a miracle.

Jason slowly walked to the available bedside chair and sat down, not taking his eyes off Gar.

Gar didn’t stir. In fact, he barely seemed to be breathing. 

This wasn’t a good time to be a Protector, apparently. First PJ was dealing with the aftermath of an assassination attempt on Dan—was he even well enough to go to the wedding tomorrow?—and Gar was here, hovering on the edge of death.

It had taken Molly’s hurried report before she was sent off to rest. It had taken MatPat, researching for hours, using up the time as they waited for the healers to finish up with Gar. It had taken some thinking from all of them—but they finally had an answer. Gar getting hurt had been an accident.

MatPat’s theory had been long and rather technical (as his theories tended to be) but it made sense of the events Molly had described. The gryphon kits and younglings were too young and inexperienced to recognize what the Protector binding was, but aware enough to sense the residue of demon magic on Gar—and the royal magic on Molly. They’d thought they had been defending Molly.

The adult who’d shown up mere seconds after Gar had been tackled had put a stop to it, but...

Jason’s gaze lingered on Gar’s face before moving to look at the rest of him.

As earlier mentioned, most of Gar was covered by blankets, trying to keep him properly warm. And Jason had been there when Molly had been told the full extend of Gar’s injuries, but it wasn’t the same as being here.

Some of the blankets had slipped slightly, revealing just a few of the bandages wrapping around Gar’s arm. One of those had been broken, hadn’t it?

Jason slumped in his seat.

As much as they would all like to hope otherwise, the odds were stacked against Gar. He’d lost so much blood and been so badly injured that none of the healers were terribly confident about his survival—hopeful, but not confident.

Molly had to get to the Guardians before winter fell, but there was no way Gar would be able to travel any time soon. 

There were a few potential solutions, but it would be best to see if Gar started improving and healing at all, or if he was just going to die, before they decided on one. 

If Gar looked like he was going to survive, Redscale could come pick up Molly and Gar. Jason wasn’t sure he could fly that far anymore, though. His age had finally started catching up with him. However, even if Gar died, Redscale could come pick up Molly.

If that happened, it would be best if Redscale took them in the Seventh Realm. Jason supposed he and MatPat could escort them to the border, where JP and Amile could take the responsibility on themselves.

If Gar didn’t die, though, even traveling in a carriage would be incredibly risky for him. If it was what needed to be done, Jason would make sure it happened, but it definitely wasn’t the best option out there.

Jason sighed. He had a lot of theoretical planning to do.

\-----

He stood in the mist again, eyes fixed on where the border between life and death lay.

“He’s been hurt before. It’s never been bad,” Crumpler said, though he sounded like he was trying to reassure himself as much as he was the others.

“Never been bad? You don’t remember how many times he’s almost died?” Piya challenged, crossing his arms.

The first ignored them, focusing on what his bond with Gar was telling him.

He didn’t even realize he’d begun stepping into the fog until hands caught him and stopped him.

“Snow. No.” Crumpler hooked an arm over his shoulders. “It’s not that bad.”

“He’s exhausted,” Snow murmured, gaze still fixed in the fog. “He’s holding on through sheer willpower. He wants something to be done.”

“You can’t help him,” Piya said. “You’re dead. He’s not. That’s all there is to it.”

Snow shook his head. Agony was rolling through his binding with Gar, but there was more. 

Gar really,  _ really _ wanted something done. He was distressed about it.

And he had been for a while now. Days, probably.

“Snow. Come on. Let’s go back.”

Snow shook his head. “I can’t.” He sighed. “I can’t just leave when he’s like this.”

“You’ve already done your job,” Crumpler assured. “You can’t do anything more.”

“Besides,” Piya added, “even if you could, you’re dead. Even if you managed to haul yourself back across the border—which I don’t think you can—you’d be stuck as a ghost, and that’s not good.”

Snow shook them off, taking another step into the fog. Already, he was starting to feel the tug trying to get him to return to the realm of the dead swirling around his ankles.

“You’re going to pull him over.”

“I can’t. He’d just go to his medallion.” How Snow knew this, he didn’t know.

A long silence, and then Piya and Crumpler grabbed an arm each and started dragging Snow back.

“Stop that!” Snow yanked his arms free.

“He’s not a Protector, Snow. He’s a prince. You’ve been spending too long in this fog.” Piya scowled at him.

Snow shook his head. “No, he has a binding with someone else, someone other than me.” It felt an awful lot like a Protector binding. Plus, he’d been confident that he’d been Molly’s Protector back when Snow had been a shade.

“Maybe he got married. Guy’s allowed to fall in love.” Crumpler tried to grab Snow’s arm again, only for Snow to move out of the way.

“It’s not that kind of binding.”

“What difference does it make if he is one? You’re still going to pull him over. I thought we decided not to do that. That’s why Lester is in town, and not here with us.”

Snow scowled. “Stop. I have to do  _ something  _ to help him.”

“You can’t do anything. The sooner you accept that, the sooner you can stop bothering everyone.” Crumpler grabbed Snow’s arm again, dragging him back.

Snow allowed it, but he never took his eyes off the fog.

Finally, when they were on the verge of the town—a city, really; for people who refused to move on fully (generally waiting for someone)—Crumpler let go of Snow’s arm.

Snow took off back towards the fog. They were fast, but he was faster.

“Snow!”

“No!”

Snow ignored Crumpler and Piya’s cries, diving as deep into the fog as he could.

His suspicions were right. His prince wasn’t getting any closer. He was fighting to stay alive. But he needed help.

Even if Snow had to become a ghost to give him that help, he would.


	28. Wedding

Dan was quiet as he helped PJ pull on the pieces of his formal uniform. Under normal circumstances, PJ would be wearing full armor to Dan and Amanda’s wedding, but he was barely able to sit up by himself and pull himself along on crutches without them. He wouldn’t be able to handle the extra weight right now.

Honestly, he was lucky the healers were even allowing him to attend the wedding (and Dan’s subsequent binding to the Fourth Realm, and taking Amanda’s side as the new Lord of the Fourth Realm) and he’d see how many of the following celebrations he’d get to attend before he was too tired—or the healers forced him to rest, regardless.

Half the reason they were allowing him to go was because he wasn’t going to be resting either way. If he wasn’t attending, he’d be awake and constantly worrying about another assassination attempt. He’d probably end up sending as much calming to Dan as he could over their binding.

Besides, he had things he needed to do in the wedding. He had a role to play, as Dan’s Protector.

“Don’t push yourself too hard,” Dan murmured, breaking the silence between them.

“It’ll only be a couple of hours.” PJ put a hand on his leg, wincing as it throbbed harshly. “I’ll be fine.”

Dan  _ hmmm _ -ed, but said, “Gimme your arm.”

PJ complied, allowing Dan to slide on his first gauntlet. As far as weight went, they didn’t add much, but they looked impressive. 

Finally, Dan pulled away. “I’ve got to get ready myself. You can get your boots on, right?”

PJ reached for the boots sitting next to his bed. “I think so.”

“Good.” Dan stood off the bed and walked over to where his own outfit had been set out.

Dan was the kind of person to wait until an hour before his own wedding to get dressed.

PJ helped Dan where he could, shaky fingers fastening on the armor Dan had to wear as dictated by custom (despite Dan’s grumbles about it), but it took much longer than either of them were used to.

PJ frowned. Unhappiness was rolling off Dan, getting more and more bitter with each piece of Dan’s formal armor they got on him.

“Dan...”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Dan fastened on his gauntlets. “It won’t change duty.”

PJ sighed. “I know. But it might help it hurt less.”

Dan hung his head, closing his eyes for a minute. He swallowed, then looked up. “I’ve always been a slave to duty. I mean, I know you have too, but...” He sighed himself. “I feel like I’m 17 again. Helpless, and a stranger to my future.”

PJ put a comforting hand on Dan’s shoulder. Nothing he could say would help.

Dan stood. “We need to get down there before someone comes looking for us, or before people decide I got cold feet.”

PJ glanced out the window. Sunset. “We were supposed to be there now.”

Dan shrugged. “I’m great at being late to things.” He offered a hand to PJ, picking up PJ’s crutches with his other hand.

“It’s your wedding, Dan.” PJ took the offered hand.

“I’ve always been late to my own weddings.” Dan hauled PJ up and handed him the crutches.

PJ sort of glanced at Dan as he got settled on the crutches. “That’s a really weird thing to say.”

“True, though.”

PJ shook his head. It was indeed true. Dan had shown up late to his wedding with Phil.  Of course, that time Dan had gotten lost on the way to the chapel and PJ had had to go find him. This time they were just leaving late.

\-----

PJ was already shaking with exhaustion by the time he got to the wedding, and he slumped in his seat as the wedding started. Luna, next to him, didn’t seem to know what to do about that.

Despite himself, PJ found himself starting to doze.

Not through all of the wedding, of course. He was awake enough that he could see both Dan and Amanda being stiff, and sense the unhappiness rolling off Dan increasing.

And then, very abruptly, a flash of amusement ran through Dan, paired with a slight prod through their binding.

PJ gave him an even look, and the slightest smile flicked across Dan’s face.

Amanda raised an eyebrow, then glanced over at PJ.

PJ pulled himself up in his seat, trying to straighten out his clothes a bit. The arrow wound in his leg, which had previously settled into a dull throb, shot pain up his thigh.

Amanda smirked slightly.

From then on, whenever PJ started dozing again, Dan’s amusement would grow, and he’d get a little prod over their binding.

The wedding ended, and instantly the ceremony transitioned into binding Dan to the Fourth Realm.

Under normal circumstances, PJ would be up there with Dan, looking impressive. Not because it was necessary for the ceremony, but because it helped the noble.

PJ had been forbidden from standing except to move from area to area, though, so here he sat. Half asleep. With his newly-remarried noble laughing silently at him. In a lot of pain, because his leg hadn’t stopped complaining after he’d shifted positions.

“Are you okay?” Luna leaned over and whispered. The first words she’d spoken to him in person, and that’s what they were.

PJ just shook his head. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

Luna gave him a concerned look. “You coming to the celebrations, then?”

“Probably not.” PJ put a hand on his leg, aware of the sharp look Dan sent his way at that action. “I’d love to, but it’d do me more harm than good.”

“Fair.” Luna looked like she’d be more comfortable saying that in a different way, but they were in public and she was sure to have impeccable manners.

At that exact moment, something seemed to settle over his binding with Dan, and he looked over to see the binding ceremony almost done (he had seen it several times before, after all, and knew what each part looked like).

Whatever had settled seemed to acknowledge the binding and move on, and PJ blinked. Had that been the magic of the Fourth Realm?

And then Dan was standing from his crouch, and something undeniably powerful rushed over the room. Gasps rang out from every corner, which meant PJ wasn’t the only one to feel it.

“The magic likes him,” Luna whispered, smiling.

“Good.”

Dan caught PJ’s eye and titled his head slightly in a sort of summons, then offered his arm to Amanda. She set her hand on it gracefully, and the two stood there for the cheering spreading through the crowd for a moment while PJ collected his crutches and prepared to stand.

“You ready?” PJ glanced at Luna.

She nodded.

Under ideal circumstances, PJ and Luna would have stood in unison, as the Lady’s daughter and the Lord’s Protector, and moved together to their spots behind Dan and Amanda.

These were not ideal circumstances.

As PJ stood, his body weight on the crutches, several things happened in quick succession: his brain fuzzed, someone (or several someones) screamed, and a wave of alarm rolled off Dan.

The world came back to PJ in bits and pieces.

Dan was nearby, frantic. He was shouting, but PJ couldn’t really process what it was his noble was saying.

As he opened his eyes, he realized what he was seeing was the ceiling, and Luna leaning over him with clear concern on her face.

Did he pass out?

PJ brushed his binding with Dan, and instantly he quieted.

The healer’s head popped into his vision, scowling. “Protector Liguori, I’m afraid you won’t be allowed to attend the celebrations at all. Not until we figure out what’s wrong.”

PJ went to push himself up on an elbow, only to have the healer put a hand on his shoulder to keep him from moving. “I just stood up too fast.” It had happened before—a result of being so tall. It wasn’t anything to worry about. Embarrassing, considering that just about everyone in attendance of the wedding would have seen him go down, but he’d taken worse hits to his dignity.

“Humor me.” The healer raised an eyebrow.

PJ sighed, but nodded. This wasn’t worth an argument over.

“I’ll let Lord Howell know,” Luna said.

“Thank you, Heiress.”

Luna dipped her head and stood before disappearing from view.

“Now, Protector Liguori, I need to make sure you didn’t hurt yourself when you fell.”

\-----

PJ let his head drop back against his pillows at the healer’s newest revelation.

As it turned out, his standing up too quickly had been good for him. Good for most of him, at least. And not because passing out from it healed him in any way, no; rather, it had prompted the healers to check him over again in rather uncomfortable detail, and this time they’d discovered something new.

“We need to move quickly. The longer we wait, the more likely it is the clot will come loose and travel to your heart, and that’s sure to kill you.”

Of course his leg couldn’t heal without a blood clot that put his life at risk.

Of course the only solution was to take off his leg above the arrow wound.

He liked having his leg. He’d had it for almost forty years without any problems—which, admittedly, was longer than Phil had had both of his.

“It’s too risky to wait for Lord Howell to become available to try his healing magic, especially since I don’t know if it would work on this.” The healer sighed. “I’m sorry. It’s the only option.”

PJ grimaced. “Then that’s the way it is, I guess.”

“I’ll send someone to notify Lord Howell, and begin preparations. In the meantime, this will be significantly easier on both of us if you’re prepared to drink this.” They held up a cup. “It’s quite strong, and you’ll likely be asleep until late tomorrow, but anything less and you risk feeling the amputation. And if you flinch... well, let’s not do that.”

PJ sighed, then nodded. This wasn’t at all how he’d imagined Dan’s wedding day would go, but here he was.

As the draught took effect and PJ started to drift off, one thought kept replaying in his mind: he was following what had happened to Phil with startling accuracy. First he’d gotten hit by an arrow. Now he was getting his leg taken off.

Hopefully this didn’t end with dying to a prolonged chronic illness as well.


	29. Waiting

Pat had settled for ignoring Wade’s pacing several hours ago, during which time Wade had stopped and then started again.

“Any news?”

Pat shook his head, not looking up from his book. “I’ll let you know.”

“How can you be so calm?”

“I’m not.” Pat shrugged, putting a lot of effort into appearing calm. “There’s just nothing we can do for Gar when we’re a month away.”

Wade groaned and collapsed into a chair. He didn’t seem terribly reassured.

“Molly’s safe. Both MatPat and Jason have confirmed that. The baby-” once again that twinge of guilt about keeping that secret- “is fine, according to the healers.”

“And if Gar dies?”

“Then Molly can call him back when she reaches the Guardians.”

Wade buried his face in his hands. “But it’s just... Why’d he get taken out by something like that?”

Pat put his book aside. “Wade.”

Wade looked up slightly.

“Gar knew the risks. All of us do. And I can promise you, he is fighting with everything he has to stay with us. He’s not the kind to give up. Okay? If he dies, he’ll have done everything he could.”

Wade let out a shaky breath, but nodded.

“Okay.”

“All we can do is wait for news.” Pat picked up his book again. “Though I’m sure you could find out how Dan and Amanda’s wedding went.”

\-----

PJ woke with Sophie curled into his side and a distinct ache in his thigh.   
  
Ow.   
  
Sophie stirred, then lifted her head. “Oh, good. You’re awake.”   
  
PJ grimaced. “Hello.”   
  
“Dan’s talking with MatPat at the moment, trying to get the schematics he used to make Phil’s prosthetic. It’s up to you if you want to use it, of course.”   
  
PJ pushed himself up on his elbows—well, he tried to. His arms gave out and he fell back on the bed with a soft grunt.   
  
“You haven’t eaten in a bit,” Sophie warned. “Plus,” she made a face, “there were apparently complications taking off your leg, and you lost a bit more blood. You’re going to be weak for a bit.”   
  
PJ sighed. “I need to find whoever shot me and steal their leg.”   
  
Sophie smiled softly. “You could, but they’ve already been arrested and tried. It was Dan’s first trial as Lord here. He wasn’t very forgiving.”   
  
“No, I don’t imagine he would have been,” PJ murmured. The war had permanently changed Dan like that. He was still gentle and kind to people in general, but to those who had deliberately wronged someone else… not so much.   
  
Before, Phil had always tempered that side out.   
  
It was a bit worrying as to what might happen now.   
  
“Lady Faye didn’t allow Dan to do anything drastic, don’t worry about that.” Sophie pulled spare pillows from next to the bed. “Do you want to sit up?”   
  
PJ nodded, and she helped prop him up on the pillows.   
  
“What else did I miss?” PJ bent his knees slightly to get in a more comfortable position—well, he bent one knee. His right leg- the stump of his leg just moved by itself.   
  
“There’s something going on with Molly and Gar.” Sophie sighed. “Nobody’s really told me what happened, but something clearly happened. I think Gar got badly injured.”   
  
PJ cursed softly. “That’s not good.”   
  
“I assume you know more than I do?”   
  
PJ nodded apologetically. “Sorry. I can’t tell you.”   
  
“I know, I know. Secrets are part of the job.” Sophie gave him a reassuring smile. “It just means I’ll have to wait a bit longer for info, is all.”

\-----

Felix narrowly avoided getting hit in the face by a baby hand and narrowed his eyes at the elder of Cry’s sons. Or maybe this was the younger? He couldn’t tell the difference.

“You’re a bit too young to be trying to fight me, I thought.”

The baby stared at him with wide eyes and said nothing.

The younger—or maybe the older—was laying on the blanket on the floor at Felix’s feet and burbled something completely incomprehensible.

Felix looked down at him. “You’ve got to work on your pronunciation.”

He got another burble in response, and the baby in his lap flailed his arms again.

“Look, I’m just watching you while your dad talks to the King.” Felix frowned at the one in his lap. “He’ll be back soon, and then you can try to take his mask off again.”

More flailing hands, this time with fingers digging into Felix’s beard.

He winced. “Can you not.”

The baby in his lap laughed.

“It’s not funny. It hurts.”

The baby on the floor burbled.

The baby on his lap burbled back.

Felix carefully disengaged baby hand from his beard and squinted at them. “Are you two talking? I thought you weren’t old enough for that. You’re what, three months?”

Both of them burbled.

Felix looked at them harder, only to get a baby hand to the face.

Cry walked back in the room, a hand to his mask.

“What’s wrong?” Felix looked up. He’d totally forgotten to pay attention to Cry’s emotions through their bond while he’d been watching the babies.

“Gar... he’s badly hurt. They’re not sure he’s going to make it.”

Felix froze. “Oh. Is her majesty alright?”

“Yeah. She is.” Cry shook his head and dropped into his chair before scooping up the baby on the floor. “I guess we just have to wait and see what happens. It’s all we can do.”

Cry’s baby reached for Cry’s mask with little ‘ah ah’ sounds, and he pulled him closer. Tiny hands went on Cry’s mask.

“I guess so.” Felix winced as fingers dug in his beard again. “Seriously, kid, stop that.”

The baby smiled at him.

\-----

Heiress Catherine Woodward of the Seventh Realm babbled excitedly as Amile walked into the room.

“Hello.” Amile smiled at Cat. “How are you?”

Cat babbled some more, bouncing in place.

She was clinging to a chair and had probably been hauling herself around like that for a bit.

“She’s been exploring a lot today,” JP explained.

Amile frowned. “Should I ask why you’re under the table.”

“Uh, I mean you  _ can. _ Doesn’t mean I’ll answer.”

“Jeremiah.”

JP sighed, heaving himself out from under the table, holding a ball in his hands. “She threw it under the middle again.”

Amile laughed softly. “So would I, if I was still learning I could throw things.”

“It’s the fifth time today.”

Amile laughed again, brushing off JP’s shoulders. “You’re covered in dust. I think you need to sweep.”

JP made a face. “I did. With my entire body.”

Amile shook her head.

“Mill! Mill!” Cat cried, reaching for Amile with one hand.

Amile and JP paused and looked at each other.

“I’m still here,” Amile assured.

Cat grinned broadly. “Mill! Mill!”

And then she let go of the chair and walked towards Amile.

JP squealed, even as Cat stumbled and fell onto Amile’s leg, clutching onto her pants with everything her tiny hands had.

“You were amazing.” Amile grinned at Cat. “Good job walking.”

Cat babbled something incomprehensible before bouncing and tugging on Amile’s leg.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Amile assured. Then she turned to JP. “Do we have an update on her majesty?”

JP’s expression instantly soured. “Just had to go and spoil the mood.”

“I’m sorry. Do you want me to congratulate you for knowing how to sit?”

JP squinted at her, but shook his head. “Molly’s still fine. Gar still hasn’t woken.”

Amile frowned. “After five days... it doesn’t seem likely he’ll wake up.”

“I’m not giving up hope on him.” JP set the ball down on the floor next to him. “It’ll be tough, but he’ll pull through. He’s Gar, after all.”

Amile made the slightest face, but said nothing. Being tough didn’t make much of a difference when you were that badly injured.

\-----

Snow heaved himself onto the top of the waterfall and laid there for a moment, unable to continue. He didn’t know what form of body he had here, or how he had limits to energy—unless you were fighting the pull of death, you didn’t lose any energy and didn’t actually have to sleep or eat—but he certainly needed a bit of rest now.

That bit of rest ended much sooner than he would have liked as the pool at the top of the waterfall rippled.

Snow closed his eyes and groaned. His prince. His prince was drifting towards the border.

Well, only one thing to do, then.

Snow rolled into the pool and swam towards his prince.

The moments of crossing back through the border, those were absolute agony, like the universe itself was screaming at him to just stop and accept his fate.

His prince was desperate.

His prince was weak.

It didn’t take long at all for Snow to find Gar clinging to the side of the pool, trying to haul himself back towards the waking world, but slipping closer to death instead.

Snow put a hand on his shoulder.

Gar seemed to crumple at the touch, grip almost loosening entirely. 

“My prince,” Snow murmured, “what’s wrong?”

“Molly-” Gar’s words were faint, almost inaudible. It was clear he’d spent all his strength fighting his own death. “Have to get her to the Guardians.”

Snow frowned. “How can I help?”

Whatever Gar murmured was lost to Snow, and his grasp slipped from the edge of the pool once again.

Snow pulled Gar onto his back, where his head rolled into Snow’s shoulder a bit.

How long had he been fighting his own death? The current here was pretty strong if you were alive. Like the waterfall on the other side of the border.

Gar had stopped responding to Snow and wasn’t even shaking from exhaustion. He was just dead weight on Snow’s back as Snow pulled them both closer to the realm of the living.

If he had to be a ghost to help his prince, he would.

He honestly couldn’t explain what it was that made him so determined to help. Sure, he was a Protector, but he’d never heard of a Protector doing this for their noble.

Maybe it was because they’d both gone through so much trying to get a better ending for the Realms that it wasn’t fair for something to change. They were going to get their happy ending, no matter what.

“Come on, just a little further,” Snow urged. “I’ll get you back.”

Gar’s only response was the faintest of squeezes, so weak it could have been mistaken for a brush of clothing.

Slowly, the tug of death lessened, became shallower and shallower, until Snow was struggling through knee-high water. Sure, the tug was still here, but it wouldn’t be a problem unless you were floating in the river.

He could see the shore now. That would mark the return to the realm of the living.

Maybe it was because he wasn’t used to having the entirety of Gar’s weight on his back; or maybe it was because he was still exhausted himself—not as drained as his prince, for sure; but still worn down by climbing the waterfall to even reach Gar. Maybe it was the combination of the two.

Whatever the reason, Snow stumbled and fell just a step away from shore.

Gar dropped off Snow’s back with a splash, and Snow tumbled forward, landing on the shore.

And then he kept falling.


	30. Epilogue

Jason quietly looked up as Molly entered Gar’s room. She looked exhausted, like she hadn’t slept properly in her almost-week in Hextal.

Which wasn’t surprising.

“He’s breathing easier than he has in a week.”

Molly shook her head, her eyes fixed on Gar’s body. “That doesn’t...” She put a hand to her head, groaning. “That doesn’t make sense.”

Jason stood and carefully took Molly’s arms. “I’ll keep watching him,” he assured, urging her towards the door. “You get rest. I’ll let you know if he wakes up.”

“No repeats of this morning?”

Jason’s heart jumped to his throat at the broken tone of Molly’s voice. “No. He hasn’t stopped breathing again.”

Molly looked over her shoulder at Gar’s still form and frowned. “It’s... I don’t understand.” She looked helplessly at Jason. “Why can’t I sense him?”

Jason frowned. “I don’t know. Maybe you’re too tired and he’s just not giving off a lot of stuff to sense. That could be it.” Or not, bindings were weird things sometimes.

Molly frowned.

“Go rest, your majesty. Please.” ‘For the good of the Realms’ was left unspoken, but Molly clearly heard it anyway.

She sighed and nodded, slipping off into the hallways once again.

Jason returned to his seat.

Then, for the first time in a week, Gar’s body moved of its own accord.

Jason bolted upright. Had he seen that right?

Gar’s head had definitely twisted—and his arm, that had shifted too.

Relief rushed over Jason. That had to be a good sign.

Pat’s magic brushed Jason’s, and Jason absently answered the communication spell.

“You’ve got great timing,” Jason said by way of greeting. “He’s starting to wake up.”

A long moment of silence. Then, “Really.”

Something about the way Pat said it made Jason pause. It wasn’t enthusiastic or joyful, or even vaguely happy.

“Is something wrong?”

“You could say that.” Pat fell silent for a moment, then muttered something Jason didn’t catch. “I contacted you to find out what the plans were for Gar’s funeral.”

Jason blinked, looking at the figure on the bed. “What?”

“What do you mean, ‘what?’ About two hours ago, I stopped being able to sense him. The only reason that’d happen is if he died.”

“I’m in the room with him as he’s waking up, right now.” Jason paused, then frowned. “He stopped breathing for a minute or so, about that long ago. Could that be throwing you off?”

“Wha- Why is he waking up hours after stopping breathing?”

“I don’t know. I’m no healer.”

Pat’s groan of frustration conveyed so well over the communication spell that Jason could practically see him running a hand through his hair.

“I can still sense PJ, and he stopped breathing a couple of times right after the assassination attempt.” Pat sighed. “Does Molly know?”

Jason’s frown deepened, even as Gar’s body shifted again. He had to be getting close to waking up, didn’t he?

“She just came in here all confused. She hasn’t been sleeping well, though.”

Pat cursed. “Gar  _ died,  _ and I can’t sense him, and from the sounds of it Molly can’t either. I don’t know who’s waking up in Gar’s body, but it isn’t him.”

_ “What?” _

An incredibly long pause. “I... I can sense  _ them,  _ though.” Pat paused again. “They’re a Protector.” He groaned again. “What is going on?”

“I... don’t know.” Jason fixed his gaze on Gar’s body, which had fallen still and was now starting to take deeper breaths. “I might be about to find out, though.”

A grimace twisted across Gar’s face, and, slowly, a hand reached up to touch the bandages covering Gar’s eyes. They’d been changed several times, of course, but were just about due for it again.

“What?”

The word was in Gar’s voice, but something about it seemed so very wrong. Pat was right. This wasn’t Gar.

“How did...?” Gar’s mouth paused mid-sentence as his body took several frantic breaths. “Where am I?”

“You’re in Hextal,” Jason answered, his voice surprisingly steady.

“Jason?” Gar’s head turned towards Jason. “But... how?”

“I don’t know what you’re asking.”

“Jason, I’m Snow. What happened?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it's been a wild ride so far. I never thought I'd even write this, but now I'm planning a sequel for it. (I'd better be, after that ending.) It'll be a little bit before it comes out, so I can focus on finishing the first chapter of the comic, a project I'm working on for Against All Odds, and do a bit of focusing on school, but it will come out. I'm looking at maybe starting to publish it near the end of November, after the last of Against All Odds is published?
> 
> I'll be continuing to work on writing the sequel in that time, though, and I already have the title for it, so this is as good of a time as any to tell you guys. It'll be called "The Strength of the Protectors".
> 
> The best way to know for sure when I start publishing it is either to follow me on tumblr (trulymightypotato.tumblr.com) or subscribe to the series, and you'll supposedly get an email notification.
> 
> Thanks for sticking around this long, and I'll see you with the next part in November!
> 
> Potato


End file.
